Flipped, Turned, and Shattered
by randomgirl18
Summary: What happened to Julianna and Bryce after Flipped? Read and find out! Please R&R!
1. How It Started

**The Ending of Flipped:**

I also can't stop wondering about Bryce. What _has_ he been trying to tell me? What's _he_ thinking about?

I know he's home because he looks out his window from time to time. A little while ago he put his hand up and waved. And I couldn't help it-I gave a little wave back.

So maybe I should go over there and thank him for the tree. Maybe we would sit on his porch and talk. It just occurred to me that in all the years we've known each other, we've never done that. Never _really _talked.

Maybe my mother's right. Maybe there is more to Bryce Loski than I know.

Maybe it's time to meet him in a proper light.

…

I gave my tree a few more splashes of water before turning off the hose. I contemplated on if I should go over there. Go over to Bryce's. Talk. But I didn't have time to decide. Because when I looked over, there he was. He was coming over here, with a big smile on his face, his hand up in the air to give me another wave. My brain went mute and my heart took over. I smiled, waved, and went over to meet him halfway.


	2. Kiss Me Or At Least Attempt To

Bryce:

"Hey…um."

I stopped there. Man, I didn't know what to say to her. So many things had been going through my head as I walked over to her house and right when we meet, all those thoughts seemed to disappear and I was left looking like an idiot.

"Hi, Bryce," She said, smiling slightly. "I was just going to go over and talk to you."

"Oh, really?" I asked. "Oh, then what are the odds that I just so happen to walk up when you were planning on doing the same thing…yeah."

_Idiot!_

Julianna just grinned, feeling my awkwardness, then gestured towards the tiny Sacramore Tree.

"I love it," She told me. "Thanks for planting it."

"No problem."

We stood there gazing at it, but eventually my stare came to rest upon Juli's face. She really was beautiful. I wasn't quite sure why I didn't realize that sooner.

I felt an urge to take her hand, spin her around, kiss her, but I didn't. She was probably still traumatized about what happened in the lunch room. _I_ was still traumatized about what happened. Why did I do that? Why didn't I just wait to do it properly?

"So…"

Julianna broke the silence and I snapped out of my thoughts.

"Yeah…" I said weakly. I didn't know what to say or do.

Juli turned to me, her smile disappearing on her face and was replaced with a little frown, almost a pout.

"I was thinking about lunch the other day," She told me, looking at anything and everything that wasn't me. "I might have…overreacted. After I pulled away I regretted it. I actually wanted you…to kiss me."

She caught my eye and it held and it was the most horrible eye contact I had ever made in my life. What was I to say to that? Should I lean over and kiss her? Just smile? Frown? Nod? What!

"I was hoping that maybe you could try it again," She proceeded in telling me. "Kiss me, Bryce. This time I won't pull away."

Oh gosh. I was sweating like it was the hottest day in summer. I watched Juli close her eyes, lean closer to me, and I panicked.

"Juli, I don't know about this…" I confessed, but I found myself leaning towards her, too.

We were inches from each other, mere inches. I've never been this close to her in my life. She was waiting for me to kiss her and I was waiting for myself to kiss her and I should just kiss her…go for it! I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and leaned closer to close the tiny space between us…

"Bryce! The lawn is not going to mow itself!"

Juli and I jumped apart and I looked over and glared at Dad, who was standing there grinning.

"Sorry," I said hastily. "Maybe I'll…talk to you later?"

"Yeah," Juli agreed. "Later."

She smiled shyly and walked away. I went back to my house.

"Thanks, Dad," I said sarcastically, going over to get the mower.

"Any time, son," He said back. "Any time."


	3. A Little Note

Julianna:

The bus stop was quieter than usual. Maybe it was because Shelly, the most annoying girl in school, wasn't there, or it might have even been because of me. Since my favorite tree had been cut down, seeing me at the bus stop was rare. I road my bike to school, rain or shine, sometimes getting a ride from my parents when I was lucky. But since recently, I decided that I shouldn't be afraid or upset about riding the bus because of some stupid tree. Anyway, I had my own tree now.

I stood in the back of the crowd, my eyes glancing occasional over to Bryce's house. That was another reason as to why I was at the bus stop. Yesterday evening, Bryce and I didn't leave off on a good note. Once he left to go mow the lawn, I stayed outside, watching him. When he was done, though, he went inside. He didn't come over to talk to me. I had to make sure he was okay with what happened. He had almost kissed me…did he regret trying again?

"Hey, Juli."

Bryce came up to me, a small smile on his face. His backpack was slung over one shoulder and in his hand, crushed under his fingers, was a note.

He saw me looking at it and his fist clenched tighter.

"Hi, Bryce. How are you?"

"Pretty good…I guess."

We stood there in silence then and even with the other kids talking around us, it was awkward. I didn't know what to say. I had always wanted to talk to Bryce, have a conversation with him, but every time we're together I forget how to speak, my mouth goes dry, and I forget everything that I was going to say. I took it as a nervous habit, but it only happened when I was with Bryce or in close radius to him. It was rather annoying.

"Juli, I was thinking about yesterday," Bryce suddenly said, glancing down at our feet. "Sorry about my dad. He's a jerk sometimes."

"Oh, It's okay," I lied.

He looked up to stare into my eyes.

"No…it's not okay," He said, saying exactly what I wanted to say. "He ruined the moment, I'm sorry. I wanted to go over to your house afterwards, but it would have been too awkward. So…"

He held out the note, now crumpled up into millions of creases.

"Take it," He whispered.

Slowly, I reached my hand out and took the note. My hand touched his in the process and I held my breath. The note was addressed to me. It even had a horrible drawn smile on it.

"Read it later on," He told me, gesturing towards the bus that was pulling up to the stop. "Reply back and give it to me, okay?"

I nodded in understanding and got on the bus.

People seemed to stare at me as I tired to find an empty seat. They were surprised; as I was that I was even on the bus. But I didn't notice as much with the note in my hand, filling my thoughts with so many reasons as to why he gave me it. I just wanted to open it right then and there, but I would have to wait. Even if it killed me.

The day seemed to roll by fast. The first three hours were a whiz and then lunch came around and everything seemed to go in slow motion.

Lunch was the only time I could see Bryce. Meaning, I had to read the note and reply so I could give it back to him before fourth hour.

The note had been in my pocket all day. I could feel it weighing me down, pleading me to just open it. It made me anxious and jittery. When I at last had time to open it, I was nervous. What did he have to say? Why did he even give me the note? Was the smiley face an indication that it was a good note? Or did it mean that "Hey, I don't really like you, no hard feelings."? Slowly, I pulled it open.

_Juli,_

_Sorry about the other day. Well, actually the last two days. I just didn't know what else to do. I want to talk to you. Maybe get to know you better. Tonight at that little toddler park no one ever goes to…meet me there at seven?_

_-Bryce_


	4. The KindaSortaMaybe Date

Bryce:

"Oooh, Bryyyce, you going on a date tonight?"

Lynetta's voice seemed to bounce off the walls, echoing through the entire house, so even my parents could hear. And when they heard the words Bryce and Date in the same sentence, they came running.

I mean, it's not as if I live in some basement, hiding from society. I do have a life. So they should have figured out that sooner or later my name and the word date would mingle together. But I wasn't sure if I would even call it a date.

I was simple meeting Julianna at the park. It was more of a friend get together than a date. Anyway, if we _were_ going on one, I wouldn't have chosen the park as our 'romantic evening destination.'

"So Bryce, who's the lucky girl?" Lynetta continued to prod me with questions.

"Now, Lynetta, I'm sure we know full well who the girl is," Mom said, eyeing Dad with a frown.

"Hey, I didn't know they had a thing going on," Dad tried to defend himself. "Next time when I catch them trying to swap spit I'll just carry on my business."

"You saw them kissing?" Lynetta shrieked.

"Yes," Mom replied, hitting dad roughly on the shoulder. "And he ruined it."

I listened to them talk about my "moment" for a few more minutes before I thought it was getting out of hand.

"Seriously, it's not even a date," I finally clarified, shutting them up. "I'm just meeting Juli so we can talk. No date."

Mom and Lynetta looked disappointed.

"And I have to go," I added, going over towards the door. "I'll be home later tonight."

"Have fun, Sweetie!" Mom said.

"Don't do anything you may regret!" Dad shouted as I closed the door behind me.

For it being close to spring, it was cold. I was shivering in my jeans and collared shirt as I made my way down to the park. I didn't know if Juli was already waiting for me there or if she was still at home.

When I made it to the park, I saw Juli on one of the swings, swinging high up into the air. It reminded me of the old Juli, the one I first meet when I moved into her neighborhood. But I knew better than to think about the old Juli was different than the new Juli. There was never an old one, I just didn't take the time to see Juli for who she really was.

"Hey!" I called over and she looked up and smiled. I watched her jump off the swing, landing perfectly on the ground.

"Hi," She said. I was surprised by how shy she seemed.

We went over to a bench, which was graffitied and broken, and sat down beside each other, smiling.

"You look nice," I said, referring to her light makeup on her face and the way she did her hair.

"Thanks," She said. "You don't look half bad yourself."

She bit her lip and looked over at the slide.

"I have to tell you something," She said quietly.

"What is it?"

"I'm giving away my chickens."

She closed her eyes and when she opened them I noticed that there were tears forming.

"Why?" I asked, putting a comforting hand over hers.

"I just…I don't know, I can't take care of them anymore. They're producing less and less eggs each time and I think they're times short. I'm giving them to a farm this weekend. I just thought you would want to know. No more of those poisoned eggs."

"I'm really sorry about that," I told her. "I'm really sorry about a lot of things. I'm just…I'm a coward."

She smiled slightly and nodded.

"Thanks for agreeing with me," I said sarcastically.

"Anytime," She said and we laughed some.

A noise distracted us from us and we looked behind us, startled.

"Hey, Bryce. I wasn't expecting to see you here. Garrett, you know Bryce, right? And if it isn't Miss Julianna Baker."

The voice. I could detect it from anywhere.

Out of the bushes came none other than Shelly and my old best friend Garrett.


	5. Violence Is Sometimes The Answer

**Author's Note: I'm REALLY sorry I haven't updated this in a while. I've been busy with other stories. Sorry. **

Julianna:

Seeing Shelly and Garrett sent a chill down my spine. Bryce's ex-girlfriend _and_ ex-best friend, both of which were a frequent tease to me, standing there before us. My first thought was to run. Hopefully Bryce would follow, and we could go somewhere they wouldn't find us. All day I had been day-dreaming about our little get-together. It was embarrassing even to myself to think of how much I had been looking forward to it. They couldn't ruin it for us, no, not when Bryce and I were finally getting on the right track.

When I glanced over at Bryce to see if he had the same idea, his eyes were glued to the two people in front of us. His fists were clenched, and a hard frown came up on his lips.

"Hi, Bryce," Shelly said again, wiggling her fingers at him. Garrett kept his hands in his pockets, staring dumbly at the ground.

"What are you doing here?" Bryce asked rudely. He didn't like them here as much as I didn't.

"Dude, it's a park. You don't need special rights to be here," Garrett muttered, glancing up at his old friend. "Just ask Juli over there. She knows all about _special_ things."

I was taken aback by that. Garrett was bringing up Uncle David. He was autistic, _special_ as Garrett put it. He had even said I was "special" since I was related to an autistic person. Bryce had agreed with him. And that was when I started to see Bryce as a different person.

"Just shut up about that," Bryce said loudly, stepping out towards them. "You have no right to talk about that."

Shelly giggled and slung her arms around Garrett's waist.

"Talk about what?" She asked. As if she didn't know already.

"Don't talk about Julianna that way," Bryce continued to defend me. "She's perfectly fine. Sure, maybe she's related to an autistic person, but that doesn't make_ her_ one."

"Dude, don't get in a fit, I know," Garrett muttered, rolling his eyes. "What are you doing with her, anyway? Are you seriously scooping _that_ low?"

I felt like I was shrinking down in size. Every time Garrett would say a mean comment about me, I would shrink a few inches. Maybe by the end of the night I'd be nothing. That's how I felt like; nothing.

"Just shut up and go," Bryce repeated. He didn't know what to say. Normally he'd be agreeing with everything Garrett said, but now he had to do the exact opposite. "Just take that-that slut with you and go somewhere else!"

Shelly gasped and pulled herself away from Garrett.

"You can't just go around calling my girlfriend a slut!" Garrett said angrily. He pulled up his sleeves and made a threatening step towards Bryce.

"Then stop with the comments about Juli," Bryce compromised.

But Garrett didn't hear him; or maybe he decided he didn't care what Bryce said anymore. His fist came up and out, and it hit Bryce square in the nose.

Bryce staggered back, clutching onto his nose, looking bewildered.

"Are you okay?" I asked anxiously from my safe distance away.

"Just stay out of this, Juli," He said hastily, then turned back towards Garrett.

I had never witnessed a real fight before. My brother's had had their share of quarrels, but I had never seen a fight with punches and kicks and all the other extremes. I stood there shaking as I watched Garrett beat up Bryce. Bryce was trying to defend himself, but Garrett was too strong. Shelly watched from nearby, enchanted by how well her boyfriend was doing.

"Bryce!" I called to him, taking a step closer. Juli was not a coward by all means. If I had to, I would go break up the fight. Even if a few punches were thrown in my direction.

"Just-stay…out of this!" Bryce panted back. He fell to the ground. His nose was bleeding, and he seemed to be giving up. He was no match for Garrett.

I watched him struggle some more. I still felt like I was shrinking. It wouldn't take too much longer till I vanished.

"Dude! Stop! I…I give up, Dude, stop, you won!" Bryce choked out.

But Garrett didn't stop. Instead, his arms pumped faster and his punches were harder. Shelly cheered him on.

I knew I had to do something. I couldn't just stand here and watch. I took a deep breath. Garrett was mean, but he didn't have the guts to hit a girl. At least, let's hope.

I rushed over to them in a sprint, and my hands grasped Garrett's shoulders, trying to shove him out of the way.

"Juli!" Bryce shouted.

"Stop!" I screamed at Garrett. "Stop hurting him!"

Garrett smirked at me and stopped briefly to pry my hands off him. But just as I let go I grabbed again, clutching on tighter to his arms.

"Let go of me!" He barked. With me as a distraction, Bryce had a moment to defend himself. He took his left foot and kicked forcefully into Garrett's stomach.

"Uh!" Garrett cried out. He flew backwards, and he pushed me away with too much force. I fell backwards towards Bryce, falling on him. On instinct I quickly tried to get off him, but Bryce's arms wound around me.

"Are you okay?" He breathed in my ear.

"Yeah. Are you?" I asked.

"I don't know."

And that's when we all heard them.

The loud sound of police sirens coming towards us.

"Run, Shelly!" Garrett yelled, and they took off behind the bushes, the place they came out from.

"Bryce, we should go," I said quickly.

He nodded his head in agreement, but when he tried to move, he collapsed back down onto the ground.

"I can't," He whined.

The police lights were visible through the trees that surrounded the park. We couldn't escape now, even _if_ Bryce was able to run.

"I'm sorry, Juli," He whispered, pulling on my arm so I looked at him. His face was bloody and bruised. "I ruined it. I'm really sorry."

Without thinking, I leaned down and gently kissed his forehead. I heard his breath stutter.

"It's okay," I whispered back.

We waited in silence as the police walked towards us.


	6. Meeting The New Kid

**Thanks to everyone that reviewed! Much appreciation to you! **

Man, I messed up.

No, it wasn't the first time I became a complete idiot and acted before I thought of the consequences. To think I would have known by now, well, I guess not. It's the reason I'm trapped in my room after lectures from my parents, as well as the police, grounded for a week.

Juli looked hopeful as her parents lead her away. My eyes couldn't leave her face. I was trying to decide her reactions to this. She probably couldn't believe I had once been best friends with Garrett. Heck, I couldn't believe it. The years of friendship between us only included getting me in trouble and taking the blame, while Garrett smirked and laughed. Friends didn't do that to each other. Note to self: pick better friends.

As Juli left, her head turned and her eyes bore into mine. For the briefest second she smiled. Even now, I could still faintly feel her lips pressed to my forehead.

Perhaps the worst thing about imprisonment was not being able to talk, much less see, Juli. All Saturday I gazed out my window, hoping she's come outside. The morning was quiet. One of her brothers came out to get the paper and their dad left for work. By noon, at the sun's highest, the Baker's house looked dead. No one went out of the house, none the less looked outside. But by four o'clock, as the sun was making a slow trip down and my eyes grew tired from looking outside too long, the front door opened of the Baker's house and Juli appeared.

Her clothes were grubby and her hair a mess. She whipped dirt from off her hands to her jeans. She must have been with her chickens. I thought she had come outside to water the grass she was hoping would grow. She had planted it a few months ago, and already green specks dominated the brown dirt. But her eyes wandered instead across the street to the house next door to mine. The house had been for sale for the past year. It was rumoured that we were to get new neighbours in a few weeks. By Juli's curious expression, I could tell the new neighbours had finally arrived.

"Bryce!" Lynetta's loud thrill of a voice bellowed outside my bedroom. "Bryce, open the door!"

I pried my eyes from off Juli and, sighing, went to open the door. Before it was even half way open, my old pair of sneakers were shoved into my chest.

"Mom and Dad said we're going to meet the new neighbors. Though you are grounded, you are being forced to come with. Now get on those shoes! We don't have all day!"

Juli's family was talking to the new neighbors as we walked towards them.

"Don't embarrass us," Dad told my sister and me.

"Please," Lynetta muttered, rolling her eyes. "It's more like don't embarrass us!"

When we reached the sidewalk where everyone had gathered my first glance was at Juli, but she was staring at a boy next to her and didn't look over.

"Hello," Mom said to a middle aged woman who was talking to Juli's mom.

After brief introductions, we found out their names were Kim and Barry Williams, along with their son Clay, who was my age. I smiled and tried to look happy at meeting them, but I didn't feel that way. I stared across at Juli, who had been talking to Clay the entire time. Man, I couldn't help being jealous.

"Clay, why don't you show Juli and Bryce around the house?" Mrs. Williams encouraged after awhile.

Clay looked away from Juli and stared hard at me. And I mean, stared like I was the weirdest thing he had ever saw.

"Sure," He said slowly.

He turned back to Juli and the smile that had been on his face since I arrived came back. He gestured towards the house and Juli followed right on his heels like a puppy.

"Bryce?" I heard Mr. Williams ask. "Would you like to join them?"

"Yeah," I said hastily, running to catch up.

I managed to reach them as they were entering the front door. They were flirting. _Flirting._ Who did this Clay guy think he was? Juli was supposed to be mine. _Mine._

But why did she look so happy with him?


	7. Naked Confessions

Julianna-

"And this is the kitchen…"

What he said went through one ear and out the other. I saw his lips move and heard a muffle of sounds flow through the air, but I didn't detect any of it. I knew it was rude to not be paying attention. I had had a fare share of moments where no one bothered to listen to what I had to say. It was like one of those moments in life where something catches your eye and all your surroundings seem to blur in focus. And right then and there, as I felt Bryce's eyes burning holes into my face, my eyes could only focus on Clay.

Clay was different than most boys I've met. Despite his good looks, he had beauty on the inside, too. He told me right when we meet that he loved to draw. He told me of his dreams in life, and as much as I thought it was weird that he was sharing a lot of personal information, I liked the way he spoke his mind. He was so unlike Bryce, who kept his thoughts hidden as much as he could.

"Over there is the dinning room."

Bryce grunted his apprehension and my head snapped back into reality. Bryce stood close to me, his arms crossed over his chest. For long periods of time he would look over at me. From time to time Clay would look over, too. I could feel my cheeks burning from self consciousness.

"This is the living room," I heard Clay tell us. "Juli, that's the picture I was telling you about."

For the first time I looked around at the room he was showing us. His living room was mostly bare, seeing as they just moved in. A large blue sofa was pushed into the corner, matching the rug underneath it. A TV stand was on the opposite wall, as well as a large black and white framed picture that Clay himself had drawn. It was a picture of a cabin hidden in a thick forest of trees. Smoke was coming out of the cabin's chimney and a white owl stood looking out over it.

"It's beautiful," I breathed.

The details he put into it shown his artistic ability and talent. Even if I wanted to and tried as hard as I could, I could have never drew such a skilled piece of work. Dad would like the picture, with him being a talented artist himself.

"It's not my best picture," Clay said, shrugging like it was no big deal. "But my parents liked it, so they had to hang it up. But do you know what I've always wanted to draw that I haven't been able to yet?"

"What?"

"A portrait of a person," He answered, flashing me a smile. When Bryce heard this, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

"What was that look for?" Clay suddenly demanded. I looked over at him, startled that he might be talking to me. But his green eyes were squinting towards Bryce, who hadn't said anything since we entered Clay's house.

"Nothing," Bryce mumbled, taking a step back.

"No," Clay disagreed. "What? Do you have a problem with people drawing pictures of other people?"

"No," Bryce said in a louder voice. "It's just…you just met her!"

He was sadly referring to me.

"Well, she's pretty, don't you think?"

Bryce looked over at me with a serious look on his face. He looked at my face, into my eyes that were having trouble not getting lost in his crystal blue ones. He had never called me pretty to my face. It was one of those things guys didn't do unless they had a large amount of courage, in which Bryce didn't exactly have. But the way his serious, mean expression melted into an embarrassed smile meant he had to think I was somewhat attractive.

"Well…yeah," Bryce replied weakly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Then what's so strange as to want to draw a portrait of her someday?"

Clay peered over at me again and his smile came back up on his white face. Every time he looked at me he couldn't keep a straight face. Was it right be flattered by that?

"Nothing's wrong with that, I guess," Bryce told Clay quietly. He resumed his position with his arms crossed.

"No, nothing's wrong," Clay agreed, and suddenly burst into laughter. His laugh was loud and obnoxious, so unlike the person I thought he was. "You didn't think," He said through sprits of laughter. "That I was going to make her pose naked!"

Bryce's eyebrows rose in shock and immediately his cheeks turned bright red. I felt myself blushing too, and it didn't help that when Clay stopped laughing he looked over and grinned at me. The room became silent and awkward. Both Bryce and I were trying to look at everything but each other.

"No," Bryce mumbled after awhile, so faintly that I could barely hear him. "I wasn't thinking that."

The rest of the tour was spent in silence, apart from Clay's introductions of each room he showed us. When we finally reached Clay's bedroom, the final room, both Bryce and I wanted to get out, fast.

"You have a nice home," I commented and forced out a smile. I wanted to get out of his room. Something about it made me feel like I shouldn't be in it.

With Bryce in the lead, we went back outside. The parents had pulled up lawn chairs and were in heavy discussions. My brothers were letting Lynetta listen to their new song their band just produced. The three of us stood in a little triangle, sharing small, awkward eye contact.

"Uh, Juli?" Clay said, clearing his throat.

"Yeah?"

"The thing I said about the portrait was true," He said sheepishly.

"Maybe someday," I said quietly, giving him a tiny smile.

"Not to put you in an awkward position, but you _are_ very pretty," Clay added.

"Oh. Thank you." I felt the blush returning.

That was when I felt a finger poking into my right shoulder and breath blowing in my face.

"Could I talk to you?" Bryce whispered.

Without a reply, he grasped my wrist and pulled me towards his house.

"We'll be back in a few minutes, Clay," I called back to him quickly.

Bryce led me past the parents and onto the sidewalk. We marched up his driveway and onto his garage. Slower this time, he led me in between the small space beside his parent's vehicles.

With a loud sign he turned around to face me and blurted out a question that reminded me of the moment at lunch that changed our whole relationship.

"Do you like him?"

"What?"

"Do you like him?"

"Who? Clay?"

"Yes, Clay."

"As a friend, I guess I do," I told him, looking down towards out feet. "But he's nothing more than that. We just met an hour ago!"

"But someday…" Bryce's lips began to move a mile a minute and his words slurred together. "Is it possible that you might like him more than a friend and go out with him, because I don't think it's a good idea, he's weird and-"

"Bryce!"

Bryce stopped and sucked in a breath of air.

"Bryce," I started again. "I don't know if I'll ever like Clay more than a friend. He seems like a nice guy-"

"Nicer than me?" Bryce butt in, then he looked angry, like he didn't want himself to say that.

"Well at first impression, yeah," I said. "Unlike you, he was actually nice to me and didn't lock himself in the bathroom to stay away from me."

"We were younger back then!" He disagreed. 'I'm sorry I didn't smile at you all the time and plead with you to let me draw a picture of you! Oh, and I can't forget that I didn't call you pretty. If I knew that was what you were looking for in a guy I would have not only called you pretty, because you're not just pretty, you're…"

Suddenly he stopped. His lips quivered and he backed away from me, slowly.

"I'm what?" I asked softly, stepping towards him.

We continued like that, him walking backwards and me walking towards him till his back was against the garage wall.

"N-nothing," He stammered.

"No, tell me."

"No."

I leaned my face in close to his and starred into his eyes. His face still had bruises from the fight with Garrett.

"Fine," I said. "Don't tell me. I'm going back over to talk to Clay."

I stepped back, gave Bryce one more hard stare, and bolted away. When I was almost out of his dark garage I heard "Juli! Wait!" I didn't turn around, but I halted mid-step.

"Yes?" I whispered.

"…never mind."

I continued walking and as I did I heard him sign and declare himself a coward that I knew he was.


	8. Granddad Knows Best

Thanks a bunch to people that reviewed! I just noticed that I haven't had Bryce's grandfather in the story yet, so I decided to add him in starting this chapter. If you have any suggestions as to where this story should go, feel free to tell me. Thanks! By the way, I wrote this chapter very fast, so I apologize if it's not as good as others.

Bryce's POV:

She was beautiful.

Why couldn't I tell her that? What was holding me back? I watched her go and I was disappointed in myself. God, when was I going to just spill out all the things I've wanted to tell her? I just couldn't. Something was holding me back, something strong and unwilling to let go. As much as I tried, I couldn't break free. I was stuck.

With what felt like ten thousand heavy weights weighing me down, I inched towards the opened garage door and peered out. Like I predicted, Juli was already back with Clay, a small but way too noticeable smile on her lips. Had she ever smiled like that when she was with me? There had been so many moments that she could have flashed me that smile and I completely didn't notice. Or maybe I didn't want to see it, to give into the temptation that had been there ever since we met.

I didn't have to think hard to know that I despised Clay. We were never going to be friends, no, not even if that stupid cow ever _did_ jump over the moon. He was an enemy, as long as he showed an interest in Juli he was always going to _be_ an enemy. And he wasn't going to take Juli from me. Sure, Juli and I weren't seeing eye to eye yet, but he couldn't take her from me, no, not when we were so close to being something. After all these years of back and forth crushes, it was our time. He wasn't going to ruin it, as long as I could stop him.

"Bryce, what are you thinking about?"

The low scratchy voice startled me, and I literally jumped two inches from the ground. It was Granddad, only Granddad.

He had been living with us for some years now, but sometimes I still forgot he was there. Most of the time he'd be sitting in the chair we put in front of the dinning room window and stare outside. He didn't say much, but when he did he seemed to say it from the heart, like it was important. Conversations were rare with him. Seeing him outside, casually leaning against the garage wall with his cane in one hand and a book in the other, surprised me. He hadn't come outside since the last day he helped Juli with her yard.

"Hey, Granddad," I said, giving him a small smile. I never knew what to say in front of him. Man, he made me so nervous sometimes.

"I asked," He said again, stepping away from the wall and walking slowly over to me. "What are you thinking about?"

He didn't give me a chance to think before he gave his fingers a loud snap, sending me to jump again.

"Juli, right? You're thinking about Julianna."

Was it that noticeable on my face?

"I see the way you look at her," Granddad continued. He stopped next to me and stared out into the sky that had no clouds in sight. "I sit in the living room all afternoon and whenever you go outside to talk to Juli, I always see the same smile come up on your face. I see the way you clench and unclench your hands because your nervous and if Juli ever gets in three feet from you, you always step back, like she's some kind of infection. But it's clear as day as to what you're really thinking, Bryce. So clear I bet Juli can see it, too."

He signed and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath of air. I waited for him to go on, but after awhile he never did.

"What do you see?" I asked.

"I see love," He whispered.

"Love?"

"Bryce, don't deny it. You're in love with that girl."

I hadn't said it outloud before, but, after thinking about it, Granddad was right. I was in love with her. Even when I thought I hated her back in first grade, that was when I started to love her and here I was, still with the same feelings.

"You should tell her how you feel," Granddad said, chuckling as he tried to picture me doing just that. "Girls like when you tell them how you feel."

"I…I can't-"

"I know, I know," He told me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Then what about write a letter?"

"A letter?"

"Yeah, girls like letters too."

_Dear Juli,_

_I can't say this to you to your face-_

"No, I can't start like that," I muttered to myself.

I had taken Granddad's advice, wheather it was good or not. If I couldn't tell Juli how I felt about her, then I could at least try to _write_ how I felt.

_Dear Juli_

Maybe Dear Juli was too formal.

_Hey, Juli_

Too informal.

_Hi Juli,_

_I've been wanting to tell you this for some time, but I haven't been able to being myself to do it. Here's the thing. Juli, I like you. I've liked you for a long time. I could even say I'm in love with you. You know why I can't bring myself to say it to you, I'm a coward, I've always been a coward. So there. You know. I don't know how you feel about me, but I know how I feel about you. I love you. There is no way else to describe how I feel about you…_

I tore the paper from out of my notebook, crumpled it up, and aimed it for the garbage can.

Maybe the letter was a bad idea.

I picked up the pen I had angrily thrown on the ground and when I was bending over to pick it up, I saw my door close slightly.

Hopefully it wasn't Lynetta…if it was…I was a goner.


	9. Dying Chickens

A/N: Thanks so much, reviewers! I never thought I'd get one hundred reviews on a Flipped story, it's just not a very popular topic to write about. But it's not like I'm complaining. :) Enjoy the chapter.

Julianna:

"The farm called" was the first thing Mom told me when I came down for breakfast that morning. She was hurrying about, trying to whip up some pancakes for the twins and I before work. Even in her rush, as she was coming back from the refrigerator with a jug of milk in her hand, she stopped to give me a hug.

"They're coming to pick up your chickens tomorrow."

'The Farm' had been in discussion for the past few weeks. It was only about twenty miles out of town and mainly produced eggs for local markets. Mom called them when my chickens stopped producing as many eggs as they used to. They were getting older and lazy, and we finally decided we needed to let go of my sixth grade science project.

Honestly, I didn't want to let them go. They were the only things I could tell everything to. They were my best friends, as much as I didn't like to admit it. I couldn't make myself picture what awful things that could happen to them when they left. I would never be able to eat chicken again without wondering if I was eating a friend.

"Juli, do you mind getting your brothers? The pancakes are ready."

Mom set a large plate of pancakes on the counter in front of me, along with bacon and eggs. She picked up her purse and tried to straighten her wrinkled shirt. She had curled her hair that morning, but now it lay limp with barely a curl to it. At least she tried. Oh, she always tried to be the person she couldn't be.

"I'm leaving now," She told me, almost in a sad manner. She jingled her car keys in her hand a few times. "Gosh, I never noticed how much time went by. Eighth grade is almost over; my baby girl is growing up."

I shrugged and looked back down at the food that was making stream float through the space above it.

"I don't know where the time went," I said, shrugging again. "Bye, Mom. Thanks for breakfast."

When Mom's old car pulled out of the driveway, I headed upstairs to get the twins only to find they weren't home. The yellow sticky note posted on their door in bad cursive handwriting promised their return. "Later" it read.

I didn't like being along and the sun that beat down outside was too good to miss out on, so I headed outside to where my chickens were eating their feed and pecking around at the ground. I ate my pancakes and watched them interact with each other. It was going to be different to walk outside to empty chicken coops and not to my chicken's loud bocks and their happy greetings.

"It'll be okay," I told them, setting my empty plate down and joining them on the dirty ground. They were so used to me that they didn't run from fright, but instead continued with eating the feed scattered among the dirt.

From the opened screen door that lead into the house, I heard the front door open and a group of voices fill the kitchen.

"Look, pancakes!" Matt said right away and Mike said something too quiet for me to hear.

"Clay, do you want any?" Matt asked, and I froze when I heard Clay's soft voice say, "No, thanks."

I leaped up from the ground and brushed off my jeans. My fingers absentmindedly combed through my hair and I stopped by how stupid I felt. Why did I feel so nervous with the thought of Clay being inside my house?

"Where's Juli?" Matt, or maybe it was Mike, asked.

"Probably outside with her chickens," someone replied and Mike's head pocked out through the door to look over at me.

Clay appeared behind him and his eyes got big as he scanned the backyard. His mouth formed a silent "oh."

"Hi, Juli," He managed to say.

"Hi," I said back in a quieter voice than I was used to.

He looked back down at my chickens and a small grin crossed his face. In his arms were a sketchpad and an assortment of writing utensils.

"Mom told us about what's going on tomorrow," Mike said, actually giving me a small, sad frown.

"Tomorrow," I agreed. "They'll be gone by tomorrow."

Tomorrow. It was too close to today.

I kneeled down to stare at Clyde, who had stopped to inspect some food before snatching it up in his beck. My chickens were named Abby, Bonnie, Clyde, Dexter, Eunice, and Florence, after lettering the eggs they came in A, B, C, D, and E, with their names following shortly after. I didn't have favorites among them, I was attached to all of them too much to care which ones were better then the others. In my mind, they were all just the same.

"How did you get them?" Clay asked. When I looked up from Clyde, I noticed he had moved to the rocker on the porch, his sketchpad opened to a fresh new page.

As I went over to collect the very little eggs in the chicken coop, I told Clay the story of my sixth grade science project and how I got to keep them. I recalled the first time I had laid eyes on the five eggs that couldn't possible hold life in them. His look stayed on Bonnie and Eunice when I came to stand next to the rocker he was sitting in.

"Why are you here, anyway?" I asked. "What did my brother put you up to?"

He laughed and leaned back, hugging the sketchpad to his chest.

"They told me they wanted a new album cover for their bands CD. I told them I'd help them out."

"That's nice of you."

"I don't mind. I enjoy drawing, whatever it is, I'll draw it."

He gestured to my chickens.

"I could sketch a picture of them…if you'd like."

"Yes," I said at once. "Yes, yes, that would be great."

He smiled a smile I had never seen any boy smile before. Not even Bryce, who I had always thought had nice smiles, had come close to the one Clay had one his face. I stared at him and I began to get a little dizzy.

_Breathe_, I reminded myself, taking in a quick gush of air.

"Might as well get to work," He told me, sticking his tongue out between his lips and tilting his head sideways in concentration.

I watched him gently stroke the thick paper with his sharp pencil before I went inside to find the pancakes gone and my brother hunched over a paper, whispering.

"Where is the artist?" Matt demanded, poking his head up to look at me.

"Outside, sketching a picture of my chickens."

"All right, we still need to figure out our album cover, anyway. We don't need him now."

I sat outside and watched Clay draw as I would watch my dad paint. They had a similar technique of taking a step back from their piece of work and viewing it from all angles and perspectives. Clay would talk to himself and to my chickens, discussing their poses and how well certain things turned out. He didn't seem to notice that I was there.

A little after an hour, the twins came outside proclaiming their brillient idea of their album cover.

"Are you done with Juli's picture?" Matt asked. He peered over Clay's shoulder, and Clay threw the pad closed with a jerky motion.

"I just have a few more details I have to put in," he said. "But I can do that later."

That was all the twins needed to hear. They both grabbed one of Clay's shoulder and tugged him inside and up to their room. The sticknote with "later" written on it was crossed out and it instead said "do not disturb."

At early noon I went outside to water the grass in the front year, but the grass was already wet. Standing on the driveway, looking satisfied, was Chet, Bryce's grandfather.

"It's best to water grass before the sun is at its highest," Chet informed me, shrugging his shoulders. "No need to thank me, it gave me a reason to get out of the house and stop hearing all the family conflict."

Before I could say anything in returen, Chet pointed across the street to Bryce's window where the curtains were quickly being shut.

"Please tell me you see his true feelings," Chet almost begged. "I need to know that I'm not the only one who sees what's in Bryce's eyes."

All I ever saw in Bryce's eyes was a peircing blue, along with his long black eyelashes.

"He had trouble showing it," Chet continued. "He's not one to express his feelings to the girl of his dreams."

"…who-"

"Julianna, you're a smart girl," Chet said, shaking his head in disappointment, but with a twinkle deep in his eyes. "You know _exactly _who I'm talking about."

A nine o'clock the next morning a large truck with a trailer pulled into the driveway. I had been waiting outside for them for the last hour or so, and here they were.

Mom and Dad both had to get to work early, and with the twins asleep, I was on my own. I was shaking so badly I felt sick; I was not looking forward to this.

Two men came out dressed in overalls, work boots, and straw sunhats. From inside the trailer, they pulled out five small cages.

"Where are they?" One asked, quickly turning back his head to spit on the ground.

I looked past him and over to Bryce's house, to his window, where his curtains were opened wide enough to see through. Without thinking, I waved him over. I was deeply upset with him, but as of now I could forget that, I just needed somebody to be there with me.

"Where are your chickens?" the man asked again. Bryce's curtains slowly closed.

"This-this way."

I took them behind the house to where my chickens were roaming around the yard. Abby was the closet to the opened fence gate, and she leaped up when she saw the two men.

"Let's do this," the younger of the two men said. He pulled the sunhat down to shield his eyes and proceeded to grab Abby's scrawny leg.

Abby hollered and flapped her wings violently as the man strangled her and forced her into the cage. Red and brown feathers floated to the ground and the shaking got worse. I was terrified. I couldn't belive that I had actually agreed to this.

Next they picked up Clyde, who immediately knew he was in danger and began to nip at the man's hand and wrist. Cursing, the man gripped Clyde's wings and there was a painful snap and Clyde gave up the fight. Eunice gave in and entered the cage willingly, knowing that fighting it wouldn't do anything. Bonnie ran around until she was cornered and snatched.

Inside the cages, my chickens looked helpless. I was scared for them; if these were the farmers they didn't treat their animals well at all.

I was hoping that they were done so I could go back inside and lay down and maybe forget about the whole ordeal when I remembered Florence. They still hadn't gotten Florence.

I spotted him before they did, leisurely walking along the backside of the chicken coop, unaware of where all his friends had gone. One of the men saw him and grinned.

"There you are…"

In a quick motion, the man had his hands around Florence's legs and was holding him upside down. Florence struggled under the grip, flapping his wings and trying to get control of his legs again. He began to flap so hard that the man's hand lost grip and Florence landed headfirst on the ground.

I wanted to scream at Florence to run, to get away from the bad guys, but he had already figured that out. He sprinted towards the chicken coop, but the man reached out and grabbed his neck. Florence screamed and the man jerked him forcefully towards him, and that was when I heard the most awful sound.

There was a loud snap, liking breaking of bones, and a sound similar to a moan came out of Florence. The man's hand held tightly around his neck began to get droplets of blood on it. In disgust, the man threw Florence to the ground.

And Florence didn't move.

"What?"

Had that come from _my _mouth? I felt so sad and so, so horrified that I had no control over myself.

"You _killed _him! You killed Florence."

I stormed forward in rage, but at the sight of my poor chicken, my knees gave way and I crumbled to the ground. A sob escaped and tears ran down my face.

They killed him, they killed him…

"It's a part of life," The man replied.

"No!" I objected. "You MURDERED him! Murder is NOT in any way a part of life! If you had only been gental, then maybe you wouldn't have _killed _him!"

I pounded my fists into the dirt in anger and then curled up in a ball with my arms around my legs. I rocked back and forth with my eyes closed. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe Florence and my other wonderful chickens were still with me, I just had to keep my eyes shut and imagine.

Five minutes past and I heard the truck drive away. I didn't move. I tried not to picture Florence lying dead only feet from me, though I could smell the strong stench of him and it made me want to gag.

I felt a presence in the yard, but I wouldn't open my eyes to see who it was. I felt them coming closer, gulping at the sight of Florence.

I felt them sit down beside me, and after a long moment arms wrapped around me in a hug. I leaned into the person's chest and let them hold me tightly. We rocked back and forth for the longest time and for a moment I was almost okay, almost ready to face life again.

Hours passed like minutes it seemed and the person only whispered three small words.

"I'm sorry, Julianna."

Then soft lips, lips that I had always wondered what they would feel like, gently pressed into my hair.

"Just stay with me and it'll all be okay," I whispered back.

With Bryce there, it was slowing turning out to be okay.


	10. I Could Fly Away

**Author's Note: I'm skeptical on this chapter…but it is important, so make sure to pay attention to what Julianna says! **

Holding her felt…

I don't know how it felt.

I was still trying to explain to myself why I even had my arms around her. Or why her head had managed to rest on my shoulder so I could stroke her hair. It didn't feel real to me. It just…boy, I didn't know.

It just felt…right.

The sun was rising in the sky and the once darkened space we sat in was getting drenched in light. The image of Juli's dead chicken was beginning to become more clear. Blood speared its feathers and bugs had begun to swarm over its dead body. It was sick. I had to hold my breath so I wouldn't vomit.

I felt bad for Julianna. I knew how much she adored her chickens and now they were gone. One was even dead. I never really understood the attachment people got to their pets. Mom and Dad never let us get one, no matter how much my sister and I begged. And maybe it was better to not have one; to not have to deal with the sadness when they eventually left.

I was trying to think of something to say to her. Man, no words could form. I didn't know what to say to someone who had just witnessed something devastating. I couldn't even say sorry. But Juli saved me from having to speak by leaning away from me and saying something I was taken back by.

"You hated them, didn't you?"

"What?"

"You never liked my chickens," She accused softly. My arms were still wrapped around her and quickly I let go.

"I never hated them-"

"Bryce, you threw away the eggs I gave you for two years because you thoughts you were going to get salmonella poisoning. You never went into my backyard because you were afraid of them. Just tell the truth, you had a dislike for them, right?"

I stared hard at her. Why did that matter now? They were gone, every single one of theose chickens, or hens, or whatever they were! I thought people were supposed to just let things go.

"You have to take chances, Bryce," She continued. Her sad face changed into a determined and stern one. She looked almost angry. "You can't let things slip through your fingers. You have to take the chance, the risk."

She stood up and stormed over to her chicken. For a moment she hesitated, but then her foot came up and out and she kicked it. It flopped over and bugs spilled out from underneath it.

"You can't be afraid!"

Suddenly she spun around to face me again, now with a confused face.

"You have to give into your feelings," She whispered. "You…you have to fly, Bryce. Life up your wings and fly, and maybe you'll land where you wanted to go."

For the effect, She lifted her arms and flapped them slowly up and down. She looked delusional, almost. Something was wrong, yet I was frozen on the ground.

"Fly, Bryce," She cried out. "Like I wish_ I _could do! I wish I could fly, to leave, to find someplace where I was loved."

Slowly, she brought her arms down. She turned her head to her left and stared, but I could tell she wasn't seeing anything.

"B-Bryce, I-" She gulped and fresh tears came up in her eyes. "I…I love you…but if you don't take the change-"

She looked over at me, straight in the eye. All I could see in her face was sadness.

"If you don't take the change…I could fly away."


	11. How Things Can Suddenly Change

**Author's Note: Should I even begin to apologize for not updating sooner? Thanks for the reviews and the patience. Oh, and something important! A few chapters ago I was saying how it's almost the start of 9th grade, but at the beginning of the story they were still in 8th grade, so I'll be changing that so they're still in 8****th**** grade. **

I looked at the picture Clay had given me while I got ready for school the next morning. I was more nervous than relieved that it was the last week of eighth grade, and maybe that was because of what I had said to Bryce the other day. But the picture, hung over my bed so I could stare up at it, even with its sad memories, gave me some comfort.

The picture was a protrait of my five chickens going about their daily lives. They each had distinct personalites even with being frozen in one position on the paper. Abby with her head poking the ground; Clyde and the way he seemed to watch over his family protectively; Florence…Florence and his shy atitude.

Dad had dug a small grave for Florence in the backyard and we buried him. The rest of my family didn't partake in the funeral, but it was nice leaning my head against Dad's shoulder and knowing he understood. He was the only one who really ever understood.

With it being only one week till the end of school, Clay wasn't even bothering to go, so it would only be me, and Bryce, and all the other kids at the bus stop. I had a strange feeling that Bryce was going to talk to me, and I didn't know if I could handle that. He looked so started, so awe struck, yesterday. I had told him I loved him. I had looked him straight in the eye and blurted out my secret, one that I wasn't ready to let go of yet. I couldn't explain to him how I was feeling, I didn't want to. I actually wanted to ignore him for awhile, as cowardly as that sounded.

At seven o'clock Mom kissed me goodbye and promised me that I'd have a great day. I trudged down the sidewalk towards the bus stop, to where Bryce was scanning the area searching for me, and I knew I was not going to have a great day at all.

"Juli," Bryce called over to me as I was crossing the street to get to the bus stop. He started to walk towards me, like he wanted to meet me half way, but he stopped when he reached the end of the sidewalk. "Juli, I need to talk to you."

I didn't know how to get out of not talking to him. Refuse? Turn away and not look at him? He looked desperate and nervous all at once, and he twisted his hands together, a small blush forming in his cheeks.

"I need to tell you something," He said quietly. The other kids at the bus stop were looking at us now, because they knew what almost happened in the cafiteria a couple of weeks ago. "I've actually been wanting to tell you this for a really long time and…I just couldn't bring myself to do it. But after what you said yesterday, I have to. I can't hold it in anymore, you know?"

He reached his hand out to grab my hand, my shirt sleeve, something that would make me get closer to him. I staggered back onto the street, but he continued to follow me.

"Bryce, I don't want to talk to you," I said harshly.

I crossed my hands over my chest and looked away, knowing I was being stupid and selfish. If I were in Bryce's shoes, I would have wanted to be heard.

"No, Julianna, I don't care if you want to talk to me or not," Bryce suddenly said loudly. More kids looked over and they began to whisper.

Bryce lunged at me and forced my arms to uncross so he could grab both my hands and pull me closer to him. The look of determination was deep in his eyes, just like it was in the cafiteria when he almost kissed me.

And that was when I realized what he was trying to do.

I tried to pull away, to stop it, to do anything, but it was too late.

Bryce's lips melted into mine and for two long seconds that seemed to last eternity they held there.

And maybe this was what I wanted all along, but it felt wrong. Or maybe the wrong feeling was really right. I didn't know, I couldn't even focus on anything other than Bryce's lips on mine. They were soft and fragil, gentle, just like I had imagined them being.

Then the laughing started. Bryce pulled away with a big smile on his face, maybe not even noticing that the other kids were laughing at us, even pointing their fingers.

"I wanted to do that for a long time," Bryce told me.

He looked so happy. But why wasn't I happy? Maybe I was too surprised that Bryce had kissed me that I couldn't feel any emotions.

And that was the day when Bryce and I became known as boyfriend and girlfriend and walked down the hall hand in hand, with Bryce smiling triumphantly and me not knowing what to feel. It was also the day when everything we knew about each other, everything we thought was right, came crashing down.

**A/N: Question…how would you feel about having some chapters with Clay's point of view? Just wondering, because he will be in the story quite a bit now. I'm not a big fan of this chapter, but I just wanted to get another chapter up. Next chapter will be up sooner...at least let's hope. Thank you. **


	12. Jerk Face Mr Loski

**Author's Note: Yes, this is the 12****th**** chapter very much overdue. By the way, I decided to stick to Bryce and Julianna's points of views to keep it like the original story. Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! Thanks for reading! The next chapter will hopefully be up by next week, because I know this chapter is kind of boring. But important all the same! **

Don't ask what made me admit to Julianna my feelings for her, because I didn't quite know myself. It was just one of those moments where you know you have to go for it, because if you don't you may never have another chance. I wasn't expecting Julianna to treat me any differently, much less become my _girlfriend_, but if that was how things were going to be than I considered myself lucky.

Julianna did change, though, when we finally made it public that we were together. I would have thought she would have gotten louder, more talkative, but instead she got strangely quieter and more reserved. She talked to me more, now, but she didn't have that same spark in her eye as she did when we were younger and she was the one chasing after me, not the exact opposite. I told myself maybe she was still letting the idea sink in fully. It was so weird that after all this time, when I thought Julianna Baker was just going to be another annoying neighbor who wouldn't leave me alone, that we would eventually be something. In my opinion, life was just confusing.

"Bryce! The bus is here and is leaving without you!"

I opened my eyes, slightly confused, and found myself lying in bed. At first, maybe because I was still trying to wake up, I couldn't find anything wrong with this picture, but then it hit. I had school today, more specifically the last day of school, and my bus was scheduled to arrive just as I'd woken up.

"Bryce! You just missed the bus!" Lynetta yelled to me from out in the hall, but she sounded more happy than alarmed. "Have fun finding a ride!"

Lynetta hitched a ride to the high school from Matt and Mike in their old, extremely rusted, Pinto. You knew they were coming up the street by the loud roar of the engine, which Mom usually complained about during breakfast when the twins decided to get home really late the night before.

"I just don't understand why their parents would let them drive such a terrible car!" Mom would exclaim, putting a hand to her brow and shaking her head out of disbelief.

"You couldn't even call that thing a car," Dad disagreed from behind the sports section of the newspaper. "That things a piece of _junk_. I don't see why they don't just buy their kids a new used car with a least a decent engine that doesn't wake up everything in its path."

"Rick, you know they would if they could," Mom said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Yeah, I know," Dad replied. "They don't have enough money for things like that. If they did they would at least keep a decent yard. You know-"

Usually Mom would give him the evil eye and he'd stop talking, but have an amused look on his face that pissed me off.

I didn't quite understand the point of hurrying to get ready when I had missed the bus already, so I decided to waste precious time by moving around very slowly. Last days of school weren't always fun days like they were in elementary school. Now instead of having pizza parties and watching movies, you actually had to take tests. Tests, in which, I was exactly prepared for.

When I went downstairs Mom and Dad were already in their daily morning arguments, this time about Granddad, who looked to be in his usual chair by the window working on a crossword.

"He's getting older now," Dad was saying in a low voice so he wasn't overheard, but in my opinion it made it more suspicious. "We have to discuss with him about maybe sending him into a retirement home."

"Rick, my father is perfectly fine living here with us! He doesn't get in the way and isn't fussy. And besides, he's not that old! We can at least wait a few more years before discussing anything about sending him somewhere else."

"But-"

"No buts, Rick. My father is staying."

Mom put down her coffee cup with a thud and happened to look up and see me standing there. Immediately her face brightened up.

"Hey, Bryce, I see you missed the bus. But that's okay, because I know your father would love to take you to school, right Rick?"

Dad's eyes appeared behind the paper and he sighed.

"Might as well. Besides, I have to do some errands anyway."

My dad liked to splurge on big, heavy duty trucks that he said made him look tough, though I thought it just made him look pathetic. He speeded down a thirty miles-per-hour street at fifty and barley managed to stop at a few stop signs.

"So…you and Julianna, huh?" He said, raising his eyebrows. "How's that coming along for you?"

"It's fine," I said. "We're fine. How did you find out anyways?"

"Come on now. You know how much Lynetta likes to get into your business and tell the entire world about it."

"Yeah, Lynetta," I grumbled. "I guess that's not hard to figure out."

"Julianna seems like a nice girl," Dad continued. He noticed a police car was sitting along side the road and he slowed down. "Nice family those Bakers-"

"Dad," I said, stopping him from continuing on.

"What?"

"Don't pretend you like the Bakers because I know you don't. So don't say they're a nice family…because I know you think the exact opposite."

"Bryce," Dad began, shaking his head. "I don't know where you got that from, but you know that's not true. The Bakers are a well rounded family with-"

"Dad," I said again, becoming annoyed.

"Fine, we can sit in silence."

I didn't get why Dad literally detested the Bakers. I mean, they had never done any wrong before or caused any harm to our family. They were just there, living across the street, minding their own business. Sometimes I wanted to tell my dad to just grow up.

I made it to school on time, but just barely. I didn't say goodbye as I rushed to get to class, which was English with a Miss Thomson, who didn't look very happy when I slid into my seat.

"_Anyway_," She said, eyeing me before turning back to the class. "I know it's the last day of school and you're all very excited for the summer ahead of you, but that doesn't mean you can't learn. Like I had been telling you a few weeks ago, you will be given a summer project to be completed during the summer and then turned back in to your high school English teacher."

The class groaned in unison, but one look from Miss Thomson made us all shut up fast.

"All you need to do," She continued. "Is tell me what the word friend means to you. Don't just give the dictionary definition, really think about it. What is a friend to you? And make sure you can write a one page report on it."

For the rest of the class we were able to brainstorm what the word friend meant to us. I had gotten out a piece of paper in hopes of figuring it out, but by the end of class I had only written one word.

Julianna


	13. Worth

**A/N: Kind of a bad chapter, but I thought I should update. By the way, I figured out what's going to happen the rest of the story, and in all there will be 41 chapters. Review please! **

"Hey, Julianna! Wait up!"

I paused and turned to eye the crowd of students behind me, searching for Bryce, who was the only one who tried to get my attention in the halls, much less anywhere else. But as my eyes failed to spot any black haired, blue eyed boy, I spotted someone else. Garrett.

In one word, Garrett was plain mean. He didn't think before he acted and hurt people without trying, it just came natural to him. He never apologized either; so many people kept track of the grudges they had on him. I didn't get how he and Bryce could have been such great friends.

At the sight of him barreling towards me and the idea that I might actually have to talk to him, I turned to continue at a faster pace down the hall. But just as I thought I had lost track of Garrett I felt a rough hand yank my shoulder and pull me back.

"Julianna, I wanna talk to you."

I huffed out a breath, ready to hear whatever Garrett was going to say. I hadn't seen him since he and Bryce got into a fight a few weeks ago at the park, but since then he hadn't changed much.

"So…" Garrett whistled through his teeth and gave me an amused smile. "You and Bryce, huh? How's that going for you?"

"We're fine," I said stiffly.

"Man, Juli, _really_? _We're fine_? Is that the best you've got?"

I didn't say anything, but squinted my eyes up at him. I didn't know where he was going with this conversation, but what I did know was I didn't like it.

"_You_ know, as much as _I _know, that Bryce isn't worth it," Garrett suddenly said. "He's a coward. He's only pretending to be something both you and I know he's not. He's an _ass_, if you don't mind me saying. Is he even worth it, Julianna, _really _worth it?"

The last part of what he said immediately sent anger to go through out my body. I bit my tongue to hold back what I wanted to say to him.

"Now that I think about it, Juli…" Garrett tilted his head back like he was thinking. A small part of me wanted to punch off the smirk on his lips, but I held it back, or, at least, for now I did. "Are _you _even worth it? I mean, you don't have any friends, you're not exactly cool or attractive, and I think Bryce only asked you out because he felt _sorry _for you."

At that I felt something inside me break. It was either my anger or my sense of failure, but none the less I suddenly found myself shoving my hands into Garrett's chest to try to push him away. How dare he say both Bryce and I weren't worth it! How dare he call Bryce an ass! How dare he say Bryce only asked me out because he felt sorry for me! I pushed him back hard, hoping he would tumble backwards and fall to the ground. But Garrett was too strong and kept his ground, almost making me fall to the ground instead of the other way around.

"Whoa, Julianna. You don't need to push."

"Then say you're sorry!" I spat at him, my insecure, outraged self taking over my more calm self. "You know none of that is true!"

"Oh, but Juli, I think it is," Garrett teased.

"Well…" I thought for a comeback. "Well you're just jealous that you can't find anyone that likes you! Oh wait, I forgot! You're with Shelley Stalls, that…that _bitch._"

Immediately after saying that I regretted it. Even if it was true about Shelley, I promised myself I wouldn't call people by those names. My parents had taught me the lessons in not swearing and I made sure to follow those rules. Yet in spur-of-the moment debates like this swearing was the first thing that came to mind to win an argument fast.

Garrett glared at me with his nostrils flared.

"You're the bitch, Julianna Baker." He said and without another word walked briskly down the hall.

I may have won that battle, but I still felt bad.

When I was younger winning battles was sometimes I knew best. Whenever someone said sometimes or did something to me that made my anger surge and my blood to boil, I tried everything in my power to make them regret having ever said or done that to me.

"Julianna, honey, I know you like to win fights with your little friends," Dad would tell me. "But sometimes you know deep inside you that it's not right. You need to learn to forget and forgive and save those big muscles of yours for the real agonies of life."

I kept thinking of that for the rest of the day, pondering what kind of agonies Dad was talking about. Maybe it was with friends or family. Maybe it was with money or shelter. Or maybe even love. By the time the last bell rang and eighth grade was officially over I still didn't know.

The school bus was already packed with loud, excited students, but I found Bryce quickly. He was sitting in the middle of the bus with his head cast down towards his backpack, and I wondered what was wrong. But when I got to him and sat down I noticed he wasn't doing that because he was gloomy, but rather because he was staring at a piece of paper in his hands. I tried to catch what the paper was for. Most of it was blank space, but nearing the bottom I saw my own name in Bryce's sloppy handwriting.

"What's that for?" I asked him.

Bryce jumped up and consciously he crumbled up the paper with his hands.

"N-nothing," He said, sounding out of breath. "Just a school assignment."

"A school assignment? But school's over, Bryce."

"I know, but-" Bryce sighed and relaxed some. "My teacher's stupid. How was your last day?"

While I told him about my last day, leaving out the part about Garrett, Bryce sat back and listened. I didn't really have much to tell him other than last day of school pranks some of the kids played on the teachers and how difficult my final exams were. When I was finished I looked at Bryce expectantly, waiting to hear what he did on the last day, but he said something else that caught me off guard.

"Is this right, Juli?"

"W-what?" I blubbered. "What are you talking about?"  
"Us," Bryce tried again, taking a breath. "Ever since we started going out…you've seemed different."

"Well, Bryce, I've never really been in a relationship before. I'm still getting use to it."

"No, I don't think that's it," He told me. "I meant to say, everything about you, your personality and your loudness, just…I don't know, isn't there anymore."

"Oh."

I swallowed loudly and turned to look at my backpack, which wasn't staring at me intensely like Bryce was.

"What's making you like that?" I heard Bryce ask. "Is it me?"

"No, no, it's not you."

My parents told me to keep it a secret. Let's just say it wasn't something discussed during family dinners. It had happened so long ago it felt unreal, but yet I knew it had happened. It changed me somehow. I couldn't trust people as I could have before. I couldn't go places; meet new people, without wondering if they were going to hurt me, mentally and physically, later on. I was just plain scared sometimes.

"Then what is it?" Bryce asked in a whisper.

"It's just…I-"

"Wait."

I looked up to notice we were traveling down the road we lived on. But instead of Bryce having the happy face he should have had on, his face looked horrified.

"Bryce, what-"

And then I saw it. An ambulance parked in Bryce's driveway carrying out a man that looked too similar to Bryce's grandfather.


	14. Fireflies

How am I suppose to feel knowing Granddad might die?

I mean, I wasn't a natural when it came to tragic stuff. None of this ever happened in my family. No one was ever fine one moment and then suffering from a major heart attack the next. I guess I was supposed to be sad and anxious. But in all honestly, all I felt was numb.

Lynetta sat next to me on the coach with the television remote stationed in her hand, her thumb resting on the next channel button, but the TV wasn't even on. We might have been sitting there in those same positions for a few minutes, but time droned on like hours. Mom and Dad went to the hospital by themselves, promising to call when they heard more news, but the phone hadn't rung yet. At first I desperately wanted to go with them, yet after awhile I realized that wasn't such a good idea. I wasn't good when it came to hospitals, and plus I wasn't sure if I would be prepared to see and witness all the horrible, sickly stuff that happened in those places around the world. Man, it's weird to think that while you're just sitting there, bored out of your mind, hundreds of people die; people that could have mattered to someone but are worth nothing to you. I couldn't help but wonder if I were to die how many people would care. Would Julianna?

I watched the sun go down in between the blinds in the dining room where Granddad's chair stood. We never bothered to turn on any of the living room lights, so when the sun disappeared behind the houses we were left in pitch darkness. I turned to look at Lynetta, who, for the first time since forever, was actually quiet. On a normal day I would gladly take her nonexistent voice, but today I was hoping she would talk. We both needed to get our minds off Granddad.

"How was your last day of school?" I asked awkwardly, wanting to end the silence. Conversations with my sister were rare, and though I lived with her all my life there were still a million things I didn't know about her.

She let out a long breath and looked over at me. I noticed even in the darkness she had tears in her eyes.

"Bryce, really?" She asked, almost annoyed.

"What?" I demanded.

"Our grandfather is in the hospital right now and you want to ask me how _school_ was?"

"Hey, I know Granddad's in the hospital, but I don't want to think about it. Thinking about things only makes them worse. So please, Lynetta, tell me about school."

Lynetta sighed and sat up, setting the remote down between us. I watched her wipe the tears out of her eyes and I noticed she wasn't just crying, she was in full mourning.

"You know, Bryce," She said softly in a voice I had never heard her use before. "Despite the facts that you're my little brother and sometimes I hate you I would be really sad if you suddenly died."

I just stared at her.

"I mean," She continued, sniffling. "That wouldn't happen, of course. But if it did…" She shrugged and looked at me. "I would miss you."

"I can see Granddad is really getting to you," I blurted out, regretting it when Lynetta glared at me.

"Bryce! I just said a deep, meaningful thing to you, something I'll probably never say to you again, and you think you can just ruin it?" She shrugged again and stood up. "Whatever," She added in her usual voice. "I'm going up to my room; tell me if the Mom and Dad call, okay?"

When Lynetta left it felt weird sitting in the dark living room alone, so I decided I needed to go outside and get some fresh air. With it being the first official night of summer no one, except for the Bakers, was really celebrating. I sat on the porch, covered up by darkness, and watched the Baker's festivities.

Matt-or-Mike was leaning against the side of their house strumming on his guitar while the other twin and Mr. Baker sang songs. I couldn't make out what they were singing about, but it had to be funny because they kept laughing after a few chords. Mrs. Baker was scanning through a magazine with a flashlight. I thought it was strange that she didn't just turn the house lights on, but then I noticed why she didn't.

Julianna was standing in the middle of the growing grass, bent low to the ground. At first I didn't get what she was doing, but once a small glow came from an area in the grass and Juli lurched for it, I got it. She was trying to catch fireflies. I watched her leap for the lights, collapsing but all the while laughing into the grass at each failed attempt. Minutes past, five, ten, fifteen, but Julianna seemed to not want to give up. I kept watching her, memorized, forgetting momentarily about Granddad, when my eyes caught onto something coming down the sidewalk. I looked over at the figure, just as Julianna managed to catch her first firefly.

"Nice catch," The voice yelled over across to Juli.

Juli jumped, started, and for a brief moment looked over in my direction. Her eyes were staring right into mine and I knew she knew I was sitting there, but just as she looked she turned away to smile at Clay.

"Oh, hi Clay," She called back to him.

Clay went across the street and peered at the firefly in Juli's enclosed hands. For some reason I was mad he was over there. Were they even friends? I was her boyfriend after all, not him.

"Bryce."

Lynetta always had a loud voice, but I never fully appreciated, or was pissed off, at the loudness of it until she called out my name in the quietness of outside. I jumped and I swore I might have saw Juli and Clay jump too, and now they were both staring over at me.

"Bryce," Lynetta called again and I scrambled over to the door where her head poked out.

"What?" I hissed.

"Mom called," She said. "She said the doctors aren't saying much about Granddad, but her and Dad are staying overnight at the hospital. Just thought you would like to know."

"Okay," I replied meekly and shut the door on her face. I pressed my forehead into the door and closed my eyes. Granddad won't die I tried to think. No, Granddad is tough, he can get through this.

"Bryce?"

That time it wasn't Lynetta's voice. A hand touched my shoulder and squeezed.

"Bryce, are you okay?"

Without thinking I turned around and pulled Julianna into a hug. The awkwardness of it left fast, I just needed someone to hold onto because that made the situation a little better. Juli held onto me tightly and I tried to imagine that Clay wasn't standing on Julianna's driveway across the street staring at me.


	15. Pinky Promises with Green Eyes

**A/N: I feel very inspired. Here's the next chapter. :) I'm writing the next chapter as you read, so please review and I'll update sooner.**

When I was younger catching fireflies was my favorite pastime.

Usually I didn't have any luck in the muddy grounds that made up my own front yard, but my neighbor's yards were always more promising. I swore to mom I'd be back by nine-fifteen and I would run over to the next door neighbors house, jar in hand, and collect as many as I could find. When I went to bed that night I would fall asleep to the fireflies' blinking lights, smiling despite myself, and wake up the next morning to find them in their own slumber. Only, unlike me, they weren't going to wake up. That was perhaps the worst part about catching the fireflies. One moment they're the light of your life and the next they're dark, empty, and dying.

As my hand grazed the top of my growing, green grass to try to scoop the tiny flyers in my hand, I couldn't help but correlate fireflies to Bryce's Grandfather. When we got off the bus after school I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to Bryce before he was sprinting with all his force up to his house just before the ambulance pulled away. I watched Lynetta take his hand and lead him inside the house as his parents got in the car and followed the ambulance to the hospital. Since then I really wanted to go over and make sure everything was okay, but Mom told me to wait. "Give them some time," She said, tugging the curtain that I had moved to look outside back. "They probably don't want to be bothered right now."

Bryce's Grandfather, and maybe even every living, breathing person, was like a firefly I was having a hard time catching. When they were lit up, alive, they were beautiful and stunning. But over time they lost the light they had. Then, gently and slowly, they become darkness, eventually getting so dark they simply die. I hoped Chet hadn't lost his light yet. He was too good of a man to lose so soon, especially since I just started to get to know him.

I spotted a light to my left and I lunged for it. My hands enclosed into a dome around the grass where I saw the firefly, but when I carefully spread my hands open nothing glowed up at me. I tried a dozen times more, laughing because I was making a fool of myself and I didn't care one bit. I leaped, lunged, sprang, jumped, ran, but as hard as I tried all the fireflies seemed too smart and knew to stay away from clumsy humans like me. Well, except for one.

A little one floated near the corner of the yard, almost invisible due to the grass and the dimness of its light. Slowly I ambled forward, shrinking down to my knees when I came close enough. I held my breath, watching to see if the firefly noticed my presence, and in one motion and a second flash my left hand enclosed around it, capturing it to me.

"Nice catch." I suddenly heard a male voice call out from the distance, making me jump a little. Immediately I eyed Bryce's house, scanning the darkness for the figure, but I couldn't see anyone sitting near the front porch. I scanned the sidewalk next and found the boy behind the voice.

"Oh, hi Clay," I yelled back to him, giving a little wave. I wondered what he was doing outside so late, it had to be close to eleven by now, and then I noticed he was walking towards my house. Quickly I stood up, making sure the tiny firefly stayed enclosed in my hand.

Clay stepped up next to me and smiled shyly. We both didn't know what to say for a second and looked down at our shoes until Clay moved his eyes back up to my hand.

"Can I see it?" He whispered.

"Yeah."

Carefully I opened up my hand a little, spotting the small light. Clay leaned close to me to get a better look. When he looked up to smile at me that was when I noticed we were _really _close.

From a distance Clay's green eyes looked dull, but up close I could see how deep the green of his irises were and the complexity of them. They were eyes you could get lost in without realizing it. And maybe that was what I did as I stared at them, watching them pull up when he smiled.

"I know it's kind of late," I heard Clay murmur to me, but it sounded far away. "But I wanted to ask you something, if that's alright."

"Yeah," I said absentmindedly. "Go ahead."

A gleam appeared in his eyes, excitement and relief. I tried to decide if I would ever choose his eyes over Bryce's, but after seven years of dreaming about Bryce's brilliant blue eyes I couldn't suddenly change that dream. Bryce's eyes were mine.

"Well-"

A flash of light went across my vision and Clay softly whispered "oh no." I glanced down in my hand, discovering it was now empty. My firefly was smart enough to escape.

"Oh well," Clay told me lightly, shrugging in the darkness. "There are a lot more out there."

"Yes," I breathed.

"Anyway," He continued. "Remember when I asked you if I could draw a portrait of you sometime?"

"Yeah."

"Well…let's just say I got inspired and I want to draw a picture of you now."

"Now?" I asked. "Like right now?"

Clay smiled and tilted his chin up towards the sky. Gentle dark clouds moved by in clusters, threatening rain.

"It's kind of dark outside now," He said. "But tomorrow morning? Please?"

The conversation flashed back from when Clay was giving Bryce and me a tour of his house.

"_You didn't think I was going to have her pose naked did you?"_

I still felt the embarrassment from that day, but I tried to push the thought away. There was nothing wrong with Clay asking to draw a portrait of me. People drew portraits of scenery, animals, and flowers all the time and they didn't seem to mind.

"Tomorrow morning," I promised.

Clay held out his right pinky and I wrapped my own pinky around it.

"You can't break pinky promises," Clay whispered.

"I wouldn't even think about it," I whispered back, feeling my breath catch in my throat when I looked into his sparkling eyes.

"BRYCE!"

Clay and I both jumped, out pinkies losing grip and slipping away from each other. Without a word we both glanced back at the Loski's house. It was still too dark to make out anyone or anything, but if I used my imagination I swore I saw Bryce sitting on his porch.

"Bryce!" I heard Lynetta call again.

Something moved outside his front door. Lynetta must have had something to tell him and I wondered if it had something to do with Chet. Gosh, I really wanted to know if he was okay. I didn't even know what happened to him in the first place and my curiosity was reaching its all time high.

"I saw an ambulance at his house today," Clay informed me, looking away from the Loski house. "I don't know why it was there, though."

"Something happened to Chet," I replied.

"Who?"

"Bryce's grandfather," I explained. "He's been living with them for the last few years. And if you don't mind, Clay, I really need to talk to Bryce for a minute. Stay here, I'll be right back."

Before I knew it I was rushing across the street, up the Loski driveway, and to the front porch where Bryce was standing with his face pressed against the door. I could feel Clay's penetrating eyes on me and I pretended I didn't notice.

"Bryce?" I asked softly.

Hesitantly I made my way up the stairs to stand next to him. His forehead was pushed up against the door and his palms were lying flat against the wood, slowly slipping downward.

"Are you okay?"

Suddenly Bryce turned to face me, his face a mixture of anxiety and sadness, and in one swift move he grabbed me into a hug. At first I was a little surprised with the way he ever so naturally pulled his arms around my waist, pressing his nose into my neck, but I could recall a few other times these last few weeks where we had been in situations like this. The time he got in the fight with Garrett, when my chickens had to go. Boyfriends and girlfriends were supposed to be comfortable around each other, right? Sometimes if felt like we started dating way back years ago, even through the years we hated each other. Hate was a strong emotion, sometimes even more overpowering than love itself.

My arms found their way around Bryce's shoulders and I buried my face in Bryce's neck as well. A hint of watermelon filled my nostrils, sending back memories of when I use to sniff Bryce's hair in class. Some things just never changed.

A minute later Bryce's arms grew weak and I leaned away from him. He looked miserable, but he seemed happy that I was there.

"He had a heart attack," He mumbled, gulping loudly. "I don't know if he's okay or not."

"Oh, Bryce!" I said softly.

"I know. I'm having a hard time admitting this to myself, but I'm scared."

"It's okay to be scared, Bryce," I whispered, finding his hand and squeezing it. "Everyone gets scared sometimes."

Bryce gulped again, probably holding back small sobs, and looked over my shoulder at Clay. His eyes flashed in alarm for a moment before they relaxed again.

"He came over to ask me if he could paint a picture of me," I told Bryce.

"Oh."

"And no," I said, bumping my forehead into his shoulder, trying to lighten the mood a little so the thought of Chet didn't pull Bryce's mood down so hard. "He did not ask me to pose…naked."

The embarrassed smile I thought Bryce's lips would turn up in didn't happen. I regretted saying it.

"It's nothing," I pressed on. "He's…he's barely even a friend, Bryce. I don't know him like I know you."

"What were you going to tell me on the bus?"

I blinked.

"What?"

"On the bus today, you were going to tell me something. You never got to finish what you were saying…"

"Oh, that."

This time I was the one to gulp.

"Juli, you can trust me," Bryce started to say just as I said, "It's complicated."

"I don't care how complicated it is. Just tell me." Bryce urged me on.

"Bryce…I don't want to talk about this now," I tried to say as confidently as I could.

"Why? What's so bad that you don't want to tell me?"

"It happened seven years ago-"

"What did?"

"-I don't trust people as well as I used to."

Bryce groaned under his breath and stepped back to lean against the door. Now mixed in with his sadness was subtle anger.

That was my old life, a life I could forget and forgive, move on from, and never look back to. It was stupid, irresponsible, and childish. But it traumatized me all the same.

"It happened in my old neighborhood," I told Bryce. "When I was six…something happened, but it's over. I don't want to look back on it."

"But why does it still affect you now?"

"It's not something I can even _try _to forget. I was so young, Bryce, and I was scared. I'm still scared sometimes, but I try not to show it because I know I'm safe."

"From _what,_ Julianna," Bryce moaned, placing both hands on my shoulders and shaking me. "From _what,_ what makes you scared? I don't understand!"

I shook my head. I couldn't tell him. Not yet, anyway.

"Juli!" Bryce pleaded.

"I can't tell you."

"_Why?_"

"I-"

"_No! Juli! Tell-"_

And suddenly I found myself shoving my lips into his and biting down hard on his lips with my teeth. I had to make him stop talking and my brain found only one way to do that.

Bryce was too surprised to react for a moment. Once he figured out what was happening, though, I could almost feel the anger surge through him.

His hands came up on my shoulders again and he pushed me away, using all his build up anger and strength. I tried to grasp onto his shirt, but I was falling too fast and too hard. I felt my back hit the pavement and my head snapped down and then back up in a quick jerk. I breathed deeply, realizing what just happened. My back sent painful signals to my brain that it was hurt and immediately a headache started to form in my temples.

"Ow," I said quietly.

Slowly I looked up to see where Bryce was, hoping to see him looking down at me apologetically. But when I brought my head up he wasn't there. Yet another figure was walking up to me, calling out my name, wanting to be the hero instead.


	16. Chet

"Bryce?"

_Julianna smiled and held out her hand, pulling me closer to her._

"Bryce?"

"_I like you a lot, Bryce," She whispered. "And everything will be okay."_

"Bryce!"

A hand smacked my cheek and my dream disappeared, replaced by Lynetta's annoyed face.

"He's awake now," She told me. "You can see him now."

"R-really?" I mumbled.

"Yes!" She said, sounding impatient. "Now come on!"

Don't ask me how I ended up at the hospital, because in all honesty, I didn't know. All I could remember were the moments after Julianna and I talked, when I pushed her down, slammed the door, and fell asleep on the coach because I didn't know what else to do. Somehow during the time I was asleep Mom and Dad came home to bring Lynetta and me to the hospital. Now, after what seemed like forever, I was finally going to see Granddad.

"Ugh!" I groaned. My back cracked as I stood up from the plastic chair in the waiting room. It had to be close to midnight, but the hospital was in full swing. I guess that was how these places went. Just because it was night didn't mean people stopped getting hurt.

The grogginess made me stumble and I felt Lynetta clutch onto my hand as we were lead out of the busy waiting room by a women in white. I could barely see where we were going as we bypassed other people in white uniforms, because every single place I turned to look at was covered in the same white color.

_What if someone really hated the color white? _I wondered mutely. Even the whiteness to me was making everything a little dizzy and disoriented. I closed my eyes and leaned closer to Lynetta, feeling where to go by where she went. I hadn't been that close to her for the longest time. But it was comforting knowing she was there with me, even if I sometimes hated her with a deep, fired passion.

When we stopped I opened my eyes again, blinking painfully from the sudden bright lights. We were standing outside a door with Granddad's name written on a small whiteboard. _Chet_. Easily words came out of my head that sounded similar to Chet. _Checkers, cheat, check, clench, Chet. _Maybe I wasn't ready for this. I mean, maybe my gut was saying I was ready. All I was doing was seeing Granddad, who just so happened to be in the hospital after a major heart attack. But some other part of me cringed at the thought. I could hear the small voice in my head already warning me of what could happen. _He could die. This could be the last time you'll ever see him. You've never been very good with goodbyes, Bryce. _

"You can go ahead in," The nurse said, twisting the handle of the door to let in the darkness that was coming from inside Granddad's room. "But one at a time please."

Lynetta turned to me, wide eyed.

"Do you want me to go first?" She asked softly.

I could only nod.

Man, it was like another whole forever went by when Lynetta finally came out of the room. I searched her face for some answers, some hints to how he was doing, but she just looked blankly ahead.

"Go ahead, Bryce," She told me. "I'll be waiting for you in the waiting room."

It took me a few seconds to get enough confidence to go into Granddad's room. I didn't know why I was so nervous, and I took it as a bad sign.

Inside, I noticed the room wasn't as dark as I thought it was. A small lamp illuminated the white walls and granddad's face. At first I thought he was frowning, but when I came closer I saw it was really a smile.

"Bryce," He said slowly. "It's nice to see you."

"H-how are you?" I asked just as slowly. I sat down on the red chair that was pulled up to his bed, clasping my hands together. I had never had to visit anyone in the hospital before, and though I knew I couldn't mess it up, there was still a part of me that was yelling at me because I was doing it all wrong. Did I have to be more sympathetic? Did I have to ask more questions? Or did we just sit here in silence? I didn't know.

"Oh, I could be better," Granddad said, chuckling. "The doctors have me on all these medications. I feel a little loopy." He smiled and picked up his left wrist which had an assortment of liquids going through it into his blood stream. "But let's not talk about me, Bryce. I'm old and done my time. You're the one who has your whole life ahead of you. How's Julianna?"

"Julianna? She's…fine," I struggled.

"_Fine_? Come on, Bryce, you can give me more than that. I've heard you and her are…how do you say it? Dating, yes, dating. So how is she? What do you feel when you're around her?"

I think Granddad might have been obsessed with Julianna. I mean every conversation I had with him eventually maneuvered over to Julianna. So when Granddad was talking to Juli…did they talk about me?

"Well…" I started. What was there to say? There was so much I could say about Julianna, but those things just couldn't form into words. "She's…she's great, Granddad. She's different from most other girls. But because she's so…unique there's a lot of stuff that I have to figure out about her. When I'm around her it's like she's keeping something from me, you know? I just don't know what it is."

"Have you tried to ask her?"

"Yeah," I said, immediately thinking back to just a few hours ago. "But she won't tell me. I don't understand, Granddad."

"Bryce," Granddad said, staring up at the ceiling. "I'd be rich if I knew what went on in a teenage girl's head. You two have just started getting to know each other, though it's been seven years since you moved in. Give it some time, Bryce. I'm sure all your questions will be answered."

"I hope so," I muttered, leaning back lazily in the chair.

"Julianna," Granddad started again, "She really does care about you, son. Promise me you'll look after her? And take care of your sister, too, she'll need your support when she leaves for college and everything. I know she might frustrate you sometimes, but she loves you a lot, Bryce. And take care of your mother, she does so much. And your fathers, well, make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble."

He coughed and shut his eyes for a moment.

"And you, Bryce," He murmured.

"Yes?" I whispered.

"I want you to take care of yourself, too. You're going to grow up to be a very successful man. I'm going to be so proud of you."

His eyes opened and tears were there. I'd only seen Granddad cry a few times, see his eyes blood shot red, and it looked wrong. I always thought of him as a tough guy than an emotional one. He had a strong back bone and mom used to say he was a total no-nonsense guy. Seeing him cry made me realize how anyone can just break down even when they don't want to.

"Hey," Granddad mumbled, blinking away his tears. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry, Bryce."

"I'm not crying!" I objected.

I rubbed my pinky under my eyes for the proof, but I actually did feel wetness rimming my eyelids.

"See, you are crying."

Ever since elementary school when I started to cry once at recess and the kids in my class laughed at me, crying became my biggest weakness. I told myself I couldn't cry _ever_. And I did follow that, or, at least, tried.

"Oh, Bryce," Granddad said, reaching out a hand. I took it, feeling immediately comforted by the warmth of his big hand. "Don't cry because of me. I love you and will be so proud of you. It's just my time."

"Your time?" I crocked.

_What time? _Like…

"No!" I burst out. "You're not going to…"

I couldn't even say it. Man, no, Granddad couldn't die on me like this. Not when I barely knew him, when we had so much to talk about, so much stuff we never did together. You didn't know what you had until it was gone. Yeah, but I knew what I had and he wasn't gone just yet! There had to be more time. Things didn't happen this fast.

It was at that moment when the beeping, coming from the machine that monitored Granddad's heart, started getting faster and louder. Granddad buckled up in his bed and I tried to call out to him but it was like he didn't hear me.

Doctors and nurses came running in and in the midst's of their panic they pushed me out.

The door closed and the name Chet stared at me from the small white board on the door.

_Checkers, cheat, check, clench, Chet._

Shattered, broken, gone could have easily fit in with his name.

**A/N: I had no idea how to end this chapter, so there it is. And I really am going to work on the next chapter now. Thanks so much for the reviews! I mean, really, thank you! Over 200, I'd never thought I'd get to that. **


	17. Neck Problems

**A/N: I wanted to update because this is an important chapter! Please tell me what you think of it. Thanks so much! I've noticed I've been kind of going OOC with Julianna and Bryce. Sorry about that.**

"You have beautiful eyes by the way."

Immediately I felt my cheeks burn in a red blush.

"And you have a great smile, too," Clay added. "I'm kind of jealous."

I couldn't hold in my nervous giggles as my blush deepened. This must have been what if felt like when the popular girls at school got complemented. And I desperately wanted to think Clay was only saying that as a way of thanking me for getting up at five o'clock this morning, meeting him in my backyard, and sitting there frozen while he painted a portrait of me. But as I watched him eye me up and down as he stroked the paper with his paintbrush, I couldn't deny the absurd realization that Clay wasn't lying, but, was really, complementing me.

"Why are you laughing?" Clay asked, dipping the paintbrush in a turquoise blue that matched my shirt. He drabbled on some paint before setting down his set of paints and walking over to me. "No one has ever told you that before?"

"No," I admitted.

"That's weird."

I was sitting on a kitchen stool stolen from my house by the oak tree that had been growing in the backyard since I could remember. Its huge trunk and large batch of leaves shaded me from the bright sunlight peaking in through the clouds, making everything away from the tree overly bright and glossy. Clay squinted to get use to the sudden darkness as he walked over to me. He was wearing the same clothes he wore the day before, and I only knew that because after what happened over at Bryce's house, Clay and I talked outside on my porch for awhile. All we discussed was fireflies and how interesting they were, and though my thoughts were on Bryce and his grandfather, I really did like talking to Clay.

"Wow, it must have dropped five degrees just walking under the tree shade," Clay said, astonished. He wiped pretend sweat from his forehead and my giggling started up again.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," I said back. "I'm just…I don't know. Nervous."

He stopped in front of me and gave me a teasing smile.

"You don't have to be nervous." He soothed. His smile widened and I saw that he had cute dimples. "It's more like _I'm_ the one who has to be nervous. I'm painting a picture of a pretty girl who might be very unhappy if I mess up her portrait or draw her with three eyes or something."

"Would you really draw three eyes?"

"I accidentally did that once. It was a picture of three people with the middle person having three eyes." Clay told me. Absentmindedly he brushed the loose strands of my hair that blew away with the wind. His fingers were so nimble yet careful, probably due to years of drawing. "They liked the picture, though. But I'm sure you wouldn't like it, would you?"

"I'm not a monster," I agreed.

Clay laughed. "You're anything but." He continued to rearrange my hair. I sat perfectly still, trying not to notice how close his fingers were to my face. He moved a large portion of my hair behind my ear and stepped back, scrutinizing my appearance.

"You're almost perfect. But could you tilt your chin up a little higher?"

I tipped my chin up.

"No, a little more."

Clay came back up to me and placed his hand firmly under my chin, angling it to the right place he wanted it. One of his fingers barely managed to stroke my skin, but I felt it and a sudden uncomfortable feeling came over me.

"Is that good?" I asked quickly. Clay's hand stayed on my chin for another moment but he stopped moving my head to the place he wanted it. Another finger carefully moved across my cheek, almost touching my lips as it slide to join his other fingers. I really wanted Clay to let go now but I didn't know how to say it without being rude.

"Just stay there," Clay breathed and he released his hand. I felt my chin immediately sag down, but I brought it back up, craning my neck. I didn't want Clay to have to touch me again, even if this position hurt.

Time passed slowly. After only five minutes my neck started to ache, sending pain signals up to my brain. I closed my eyes and just breathed. Clay had to be done soon, right? I promised him, after all, and if I broke the pose he'd have to arrange me to where I was all over again. I didn't want that.

Sometime during the aching of my neck, Clay started talking. At first I thought it was the wind, whispering in my ear a language I couldn't understand. Yet as I concentrated on it I discovered the low voice was from Clay, who, as I peeked at him from under my eyelashes, seemed to be in a slight trance.

"Are…are you saying something, Clay?" I called out to him. My voice made his eyes come back into focus.

"Oh, sorry," He called back. "I was just talking to myself. I tend to do that when I'm painting."

"So why did you move here?" I asked conversationally.

"My dad's job, that's all. My mom swore to me we'd always stay in our old neighborhood, but, like usual, her promises aren't kept."

"Like usual?"

Clay sighed deeply. "My parents…they don't really like me."

"Oh."

"I mean, I don't think they ever really wanted me," Clay continued, slowly going back into his painting trance. He didn't even have to look at his set of paints to know which color he was dipping his paintbrush into. It was dipped into the pink color, most likely for my lips. "To the world they pretend they love me and everything. But really, when we're home, it's like I don't even exist. If I just packed up and left they wouldn't notice. I'm just a nuisance, pretty much. They don't call me that to my face, but I can tell."

I didn't know how to respond to that. His parents had seemed so lovable of Clay when I first met them. All they could talk about was how good of a son he was. But why would anyone lie about that?

"And when I do get in their way and they're forced to notice me, it gets bad," Clay added.

"How?"

"You don't want to know."

I didn't think much of what Clay was saying, though over time I found out I really should have. I barely knew him. I would have had to have known him for many months, maybe even a few years, before anything of what he was saying, at least the serious stuff, became not just lies to me. But the way Clay looked when he said those things made me sense that he wasn't just making that up.

"I'm almost done," Clay said, changing the subject. "Is your neck okay?"

"Oh, just great," I said, sarcasm deep on my tongue. The pain had subsided, though, and now all I felt was a numbing sensation.

I closed my eyes again, feeling the slight breeze brush over my skin. I heard a sound of a door opening but I didn't think much of it until I heard Mom's voice.

"Hi, kids. Bryce came over to see you."

I immediately craned my neck to its normal position to get a better view of Mom and Bryce. Mom, no doubt, was still in her pajamas and she didn't look too happy having to get up so early. It was only six in the morning after all. Bryce, on the other hand, looked exhausted. His black hair was stuck up in weird places and circles rimmed under his eyes. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday as well, except, unlike Clay, he looked trashy.

"Well, I'm going back to bed," Mom muttered. She didn't even notice what Clay and I were doing, but maybe that was better. I did not want to be asked twenty questions later on.

I had already forgiven Bryce for pushing me the night before because he had good reasons of doing it. Not only because Chet was in the hospital but because I refused to tell him the darkest secret I had been keeping for years. Seeing him now made me remember how deeply upset he was yesterday. Maybe he didn't fully show how sad and angry he was, but I felt it in his hug and easily saw it in his eyes. That sadness and anger hadn't disappeared I saw as Bryce walked over to me. Without thinking I left my spot on the stool and met him halfway.

"Bryce," I said instantly. We stopped so close I could see the redness around his eyes. He had been crying. Why?

"What are you two doing back here?" Bryce asked monotonously.

"I told you last night. Clay is painting a portrait of me."

Without a word Bryce turned around to look over at Clay. Clay looked stressed out that I moved from my spot, but when he caught Bryce's eyes he looked a little startled.

"Oh, hi Bryce," Clay stuttered.

Bryce moved like a ghost over to the old choke board which was being used to hold Clay's portrait of me. I moved along with him but stopped before I could see the picture; I promised Clay I wouldn't look at it until it was completely finished.

"What do you think?" Clay asked lightly.

"Do you mind?" Bryce replied, grabbing the paintbrush from Clay's hand and dipping it in the black paint.

"What are you-" Clay began just as Bryce, with an angry scowl that I had never seen before, slashed the picture with the paintbrush.

"HEY!" Clay cried out, rushing to grab Bryce's arm.

"Bryce! Stop!" I shouted.

I lunged forward to help Clay get a grip on Bryce, but Bryce still managed to fling black paint everywhere on the painting. He looked so angry, so wild, that if I hadn't known better I would say it wasn't Bryce at all. But why was he acting like this? Like…like an animal?

Clay pinned down his left arm behind his back and I tried to get his right arm. I clutched onto it, never noticing until than that Bryce was a lot stronger than me. "Stop!" I kept shouting at him. "Stop! Stop! Stop!"

Bryce painted over the picture a few more times, each time with a lack of energy. With a sudden gasp Bryce crumbled to the ground, bringing me along with him.

"Bryce, why did you do that?" I cried out at him, shaking his shoulder violently. "Clay spent the last hour working really hard on that, why did you do that?"

When I looked up at Clay all I could describe him as was shocked. He stared at the painting a moment, which was completely painted over with black. Then, like he sneaked in this morning, he sneaked out and was just gone. Just like that.

"Bryce," I grumbled angrily for my sake as well as Clay's. "Why…why the hell did you do that?"

I kept shaking his shoulder until I realized he was crying. No, sobbing.

"Bryce?"

"He's dead, Julianna," He blubbered. "Chet…he's _dead_."

Carelessly I fell into Bryce's arms, laying down beside him on the dirty ground.

Chet was dead. Chet was dead. _Chet was dead. _I said it over and over in my head but my brain wouldn't accept that fact. But it couldn't be a lie, no, not when Bryce was pulling me towards him, burying his face in my neck, sobbing so hard that I held him too tight yet it wasn't tight enough. So this was what if felt like losing someone you loved. But I didn't feel anything, it was like everything was happening and revolving around me but I was frozen in spot with no feelings.

"He's gone, Juli," Bryce sobbed. "And I didn't even get to say goodbye."

"I'm so sorry, Bryce," I whispered into his black hair. I started stroking his cheek like Clay had done to mine before, only this time I felt no awkwardness. "I'm sorry."

Don't ask how long we laid there because I wouldn't know. But it was long enough for the realization to fully hit me and soon I was hugging Bryce closer, sharing in the salty tears.


	18. Nice

**Sorry I haven't updated for so long! But thanks so much for the reviews! Here's the next chapter…**

Mom said I had to write a speech to read at Granddad's funeral.

"Bryce, honey, you know how much grandpa would appreciate if you did that for him. He really cared about you, more than you know. It doesn't have to be long, just tell a few things you'll miss about him. It'd be _nice_."

I told her I didn't want to.

"Bryce, it would be _nice_."

Since when did the world revolve around being _nice_?

After I left Julianna's house still red in the face from crying, I tried to write out something _nice _to say for the funeral the next day. Gosh, I could have written down anything, anything at all, but really I had no intention of speaking in front of a whole congregation of people. Sure, I guess I knew Granddad enough. He lived at our house long enough for me to know his habits and guess what he'd say before he would say it. I knew when he woke up in the morning and when he decided to hit the hay, as he put it. I could pick out favorite newspaper articles he'd surely read and what channel he'd turn on if he felt like watching television. Really, if I thought about it, though, that was pretty much all I knew about him. I had no idea about his past life or about a life he wanted to live. I could only guess what his favorite color was or what day his birthday fell on. It's like knowing a person and yet not knowing them at the same time. Sometimes I felt that way when I was with Juli, but, unlike with Granddad, I had time to find out all the things I was yet to discover. Juli probably knew more about Granddad than me. Maybe I would have spent more time with him if I knew he was going to die.

"Granddad was…Granddad was a very nice- no, great, no-"

I set down the pen I was using to doodle the sides of the paper and returned to the television, which was playing a movie on repeat. It must have been the third of fourth run through and the actors kept repeating the same lines during the same scenes, and by now I could speak their words as well as they did. I didn't know what time it was. How long had I been sitting here? Yet the paper was still blank and I was getting angry that I had to write a speech in the first place, even if it was _nice_.

"Why doesn't Lynetta have to write a speech?" I asked out loud. I wasn't expecting anyone to answer, but someone did.

"Granddad liked you a lot better than me."

Lynetta appeared behind the kitchen door, a carrot stick in her hand which she was munching on.

"He didn't have favorites." I told her.

"Please, Bryce. Come on, he totally liked you a lot more than me. That's why moms making you write one, not me. She thinks it'll be-"

"_Nice_, yeah, I know. But I don't know where to begin."

Lynetta eyed my paper curiously, looking more at my badly drawn doodles than the blank paper. Without a pause she sat down next to me on the coach and picked up the paper and pen.

"Nice elephant," She commented, pointing to a picture near the bottom of the page.

"It's supposed to be a dinosaur."

"…I don't see it."

"That's not the point! Just- how do I write this?"

I slumped down in my seat in frustration and closed my eyes. Maybe if I was lucky when I opened them again the speech would be written.

I waited for a few minutes and listened to Lynetta scratching the pen against the paper. If I had known she would be so good at this I would have asked her to help me sooner. But when I opened my eyes again, expecting to see half a page worth of words, I, well, didn't see it.

"Lynetta, you're supposed to be writing a speech, not drawing a dinosaur!"

"And that," She said, holding up the paper, "is how you draw dinosaurs. _Dinosaur_, yours looks too much like an elephant!"

She placed the pen near its head and drew a big smile where its mouth should have been and handed the paper back to me.

"Maybe you'll get some inspiration out of it." She stood up and looked down on me with an amused face. "Good luck. And, like Mom said, make sure it's _nice_."

Six hours went by and the movie played twice more, but the _nice _speech I was supposed to write was still just a blank paper with pictures of dinosaurs, which wasn't any source of inspiration, drawn on it. The only thing that was holding me back from giving up on the speech all together was I didn't want to disappoint Granddad. If I were to die I would have wanted him to say a few words about me. I should have been able to do the same thing for him.

But when Mom came downstairs complaining that it was one in the morning and I should get to bed, I still hadn't written anything but the word Granddad at the top of the page. I lied and told Mom I was finished, but really all I was was screwed.

"That's _nice_, Bryce," Mom said. She held out her hand to see what I had written. Quickly I shoved the paper in my pocket, hoping she'd get the drift that I wanted to keep it secret right now.

"Yeah, Mom," I agreed dully. "It is _nice_."

It wasn't until the next morning, on the way to the church where the funeral was being held at, while trying to loosen a tight tie, that, despite not haven written a speech, I still had to go up there and say something.

And as it turned out, when it was my turn at the lime light, words I never knew I had in mind blurted out from my mouth at amazing speed.

Only it wasn't about Granddad.

It ended up being about Juli.

**A/N: Next chapter is the funeral. Sorry this chapter was kind of pointless. I promise I'll update sometime this week. **


	19. The Funeral Plus Some

**Author's Note: I'm terribly sorry about the wait. But here is the next chapter! I'm not really pleased with it, but I just wanted to update. And for those of you who are unsure about what Bryce's hair color is (some say black, others say blond), I have found the answer! On page 18 of the book it says, "How does a boy with such black hair wind up with blond ear fuzz?" So there you go.**

"You know, honey, it feels terrible to have to buy you this dress. It's beautiful, don't get me wrong, Juli, and it looks great on you. And yet-"

Mom fluttered up to her toes and pulled the strap of her purse tighter around her shoulder. She already had her checkbook in her hand, ready to write out a check she lied we could afford, and as I stared down at the black cloth, I understood what she meant.

Dark and heavy thunderstorms outside filled "Nancy's Dress Barn and Accessories" with a cluster of irritated shoppers. A line had formed behind the single cashier and some unlucky few had over a thirty minute wait. Lucky for us, unless it was from pity, a woman had urged us to budge in front of her, overall saving us about twenty minutes. But what bugged me, though, was why she helped us out in the first place. The way she looked at Mom with such concern, her gentle voice and her caring gestures. It was so easy to see that the women felt sorry for my mother and I hadn't a clue why.

I pulled the dress from my arms to hold it out in full length, and Mom stepped back to gaze at it. It was black, of course, with quarter length sleeves and silky layers that fell below my knees. It was the only dress that met our criteria, minus the expensive price. "You're worth it, Juli," Mom promised, but as she looked down at the 129 dollar price tag I could tell she was reconsidering. However, Chet's funeral was planned for tomorrow and I told myself that if I had to look nice for one funeral it would be his, if not my own. I had only been to a few funerals before, but none of which was for a person I knew or cared about. Chet's funeral would be different.

"That's a beautiful dress you have there," a soft voice commented. I didn't have to turn around to know it was the same women, but it was still a surprise that when I turned to thank her she wasn't alone.

"Mom, that's Julianna Baker," Shelly Stalls told her mother. She handed over a pile of expensive looking clothes. "She's the one who's dating Bryce Loski, remember? My old boyfriend."

"Oh, so this is Julianna Baker!" Mrs. Stalls looked delighted. Her heavy eyelashes opened to curious brown eye identical to Shelly's.

I didn't know what was worse: knowing Shelly had such nerve to talk about me or that in one blink of an eye Mrs. Stalls went from barely knowing me to looking as if she had read a book about me and could recite all my secrets no one but me knew about. And yet, it managed to get worse.

"I can help who's next!" The tired cashier called.

"Come on, Juli," Mom said hastily. She knew the Stalls enough to have a dislike towards them. She had even mentioned once that she and Mrs. Stalls had gone to school together. But as Mrs. Stalls was the popular girl everyone wanted to be friends with, Mom, on the other hand, wasn't. Times hadn't really changed.

Mom reached for the dress I was still holding out in display. Her abrupt movements gave away her irritation, but it only distracted the Stalls for a moment before they both went back to looking at me. I stared hard back at Shelly, but my pride kept diminishing every time she smirked.

"_That's Julianna Baker,"_ I could almost hear her saying. _"She lives in some dump house across the street from Bryce. Her family's the disgrace of the neighborhood- just look at her yard. And you see that dress she's buying? She can't afford that! She'll have to go a week without food to buy anything somewhat decent."_

I bit my lip, chewing until I could taste blood on my tongue. Shelly didn't have to utter a single word for me to have such a pull of dislike towards her.

Or maybe…

No, it can't be, I lied to myself.

Maybe I was just jealous of her.

I mean, who wouldn't be? She had everything any fourteen-year-old girl could wish for and more. Sometimes I wondered why some people were so lucky to get such perfect lives and others weren't.

We all watched as Mom's check slide through the machine. I could feel Shelly's eyes burning holes in my head. _I'm pretty than you_, she was saying in the silence. _I'm taller and thinner and rich and popular and-_

"Sorry, ma'am, but the machine is declining your check."

Mom and I exchanged a glance.

"Could you try it again?" Mom asked.

The cashier slide the check through again. I held my breath, praying it would work so not only could I get the dress, but I could destroy Shelly's awful gaze. But like before, the check didn't work.

"Do you have any other form of payment?" The cashier asked, trying to show sympathy but her tiredness and annoyances came through.

Mom slowly took out her wallet, but I knew it only kept a few fives and a couple ones. I could still feel Shelly's eyes on me, like fire, burning the words _ha-ha_ on the back of my shirt. I was torn between wanting to punch her or cry from embarrassment.

Mom looked over at me again, but it wasn't a good look. It was on the lines of what her faces usually meant: I'm sorry but that's what happens when we don't have a lot of money.

"Honey," She tried.

"I know," I told her.

She turned back to the cashier and gently smiled. Her fingers pushed the dress across the counter, stroking the soft material only to let go when it was enough distance away.

"Sorry, we've changed our minds," She murmured.

In unison, we started towards the door, but I couldn't leave without looking back at Shelly one more time. I was expecting her to be laughing at us and our poorness, but her burning gaze had left me. Instead she was eyeing the dress _the Bakers _couldn't afford.

"I kind of like this dress. Can we get it?" I heard her ask.

xXx

That was how I found myself standing in the entry way of a church in a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt.

In a crowd of about one hundred clad in black, I was the odd one out. Even Matt and Mike had managed to wear something that didn't scream "teenage rock band" as their usual clothes did. I kept pulling at the knotty rants of hair I hadn't succeeded in untangling; trying to avoid the stares of passerby's who were fully aware that I was indeed not suitable for a funeral. Instead I tried to focus on the gold tapestry around the church's main entry way and the colorful pictures hung on the walls. The Baker's weren't really church people. We'd show up for Christmas and Easter services, but as for the rest of the year we fell behind. It wasn't like we didn't want to go, but we just never thought about it.

I turned around 180 degrees and I immediately spotted Bryce. How could I not see him? Those blue eyes would catch my attention in a crowd of thousands, millions. I only had to stare at him a few seconds for him to notice me, too.

"You don't look very good," was the first thing Bryce said when he got a close distance to me.

"You don't even have to say it," I muttered. I pulled on my loose pant leg and crossed my arms in frustration.

"Wait…I didn't mean what you're wearing. I meant your face; you look pretty unhappy."

"And that falls back to my clothes."

"What's wrong with them?" asked Bryce with a cock of his head.

"I look like I'm about to go to a baseball game, not attend a funeral! I had this dress picked out just for today, but of course we couldn't afford it, and Shelly Stalls was right there to laugh in our face. I think she even bought the dress! Not to mention my hair is a tangled mess and my-"

Bryce's hand came up and clasped shut my mouth.

"Shh," He commanded, then with a reassuring smile he said, "You look fine like you always do."

He pulled his hand away slowly. With his other hand he pulled out a gold circular object from his pocket attached to a gold chain. Without explanation, he opened up the top latch to display the old looking pocket watch.

"It was Granddad's Grandfather's watch," Bryce told me. His own eyes lit up at he moved it around in his hand. The light from the entryway's stain glass windows would catch it and cast a bright light off Bryce's tuxedo. Turn it again and it would reflect off my shirt. Bryce kept turning the watch, moving the light from me to him and him to me until I could barely keep track of it.

"But that's not the best part," He said after a moment of distraction.

In an instant his face got serious. He stepped closer, holding the watch out to my ear.

Though the mass of voices, I could hear music. Like in a jewelry box, it was gentle and soft, but the song it played brought on a strange emotion. It was dark and mysterious, yet I couldn't pull away from it. The rich melody reminded me of love and death mixed with courage and yet defeat.

"It's beautiful," I breathed. I would have listened to it more if Bryce had not moved it away from my ear to his own. But it was only for a moment before Bryce put it back in his pocket, looking confident yet uncomfortable.

"It…kind of reminded me of you," He said slowly.

I blinked.

"Of me?"

"Yeah." His voice weakened drastically. "It _is_ a beautiful watch, like you are…like you, um-"

"Are you saying I'm beautiful, Bryce?"

He looked at me in bewilderment like I had just read his mind. I clasped my lips together to try to hide the smile itching up my face as I looked at him expectantly. All the color had drained away on his features as embarrassment sunk in. He clenched and unclenched his hands for lack of anything better to do.

But suddenly, he found his courage. He looked me straight in the eye.

"Yes," He said firmly.

xXx

"If I could go back in time, I would have spent a lot more time with Granddad," Bryce began his speech. "I mean, sure, he lived at my house and ate dinner with us and watched TV and everything, but I'd by lying if I said I ever spend enough time to really get to know him. I wasn't expecting him to leave. He was a part of my house, a part of my life, and it was only after he was gone a few days when I started to notice, well, how different it was knowing he wasn't going to be around anymore.

"He was a good guy. He liked to help people anyway he could and not need anything in return. Like when he spent time helping my neighbor Juli with her yard. Her yard was a mess before- wait, no, it wasn't messy or anything, it just needed some help. Juli and Granddad worked weeks together on it and after all that it really changed for the better. Granddad told me they got along so well before Juli reminded him of his wife. I never got a meet my grandmother, but she must have been special if she was anything like Juli Baker. You won't meet anyone close to her, she's, um, really unique. I guess we're all unique, but she's…she's one of the best.

"She's really helpful, too, like Granddad. They also both stood by what they believed in. Granddad always had nice words to say about going after what you wanted and believed in. He…well, Juli had the same kind of attitude about stuff. She once stayed up for hours in a sycamore tree before some construction workers were going to cut it down. She cherished that tree and she wasn't going down without a fight. I don't have that trait, but that one was of the things I admired about Granddad…and Juli, I guess."

Bryce stopped.

He looked out into the crowd but it was like he wasn't seeing them at all.

Why was he bringing me up in his speech? Yes, Chet had helped me bring my yard back to life, but it wasn't enough of a miracle to include me in the rest of his speech, much less compare me to his grandfather. It was almost like both Chet and me had died.

"He's losing it, Juli." Matt-or-Mike nudged me and winked.

"Just shut up," I hissed and Bryce began to speck again.

"Um, well, Granddad didn't really talk much. To me, at least. He was a man of few words, so each time he spoke to you it was important that you listened. He always gave me advice about my problems. Like he told me I should go after Juli and I did and…"

No one expected Bryce to sprint off the stage and disappear out of sight behind the double oak doors that entered the chapel. A few seconds had passed and yet many people were still looking back towards the doors expecting Bryce to show up behind them. Only, he never came back.

The rest of the funeral was long as I was itching to go find Bryce. I tried to be respectful for Chet's sake, but after awhile I couldn't take it anymore.

"Mom, can I go use the restroom?" I asked her.

She knew what I really meant and she nodded.

I left the chapel and went towards the entry room, but when I looked around Bryce wasn't there. But as I stood there and listened, a faint sound of music sounded and it was oh-so similar to the music on Bryce's pocket watch.

I followed the music through a small hallway on the left. The hallway was dark, but up ahead a dim light shown through by a small window. When I reached the end, there Bryce was.

"Bryce."

He jumped a little from where he was sitting on the floor. He didn't bother to turn around to look at me.

"Just go away," He muttered.

"No," I disagreed. "What's wrong?"

He turned around slowly to look up at me with an annoyed face, as if he was expecting me to already know why he was upset.

"You heard my speech, right?" He asked loudly and bluntly.

"Yes."

"I wasn't supposed to bring you up. It was about Granddad, just Granddad, and yet I ended up bringing you into everything." He stood up to make angry gestures with his arms. I stepped back a little as Bryce went from angry to confused. "I don't get it, Juli. Why can't I think and talk without thinking about you? Why are you always there even when you're not? It's been happening for months, now. Every little thing that happens to me I can trace back to you. You're like...you're like a _drug_. I want to let go of you, but I can't. I like you, maybe even love you, and I can't get you out of my mind! And I hate it!"

He threw up his arms in frustration. He almost looked like he was about to cry and for a split second I was tempted to reach out and embrace him, but I held back.

"Look, Juli," He said slowly. "I don't know what this is, but…"

He looked at me.

"It's okay, Bryce," I told his softly. I knew his feeling. "That's what happens…when you start to really like someone."

Without another word, he moved next to me and his hand came out to grasp my chin. I knew he was going to kiss me, but it was still a surprising feeling as his lips touched mine. Slowly they moved together, hesitatingly, as the music from the pocket watch sang out through the silence. I thought it would have been a perfect moment if only I had been wearing that black dress.


	20. Never Coming Back

**I'm sorry for not updating in over four months! Yes, I'm ashamed, and I wish I could go back in time and update more frequently! Now, though, I am in full out Flipped mode. This story is not over! You still haven't fully met Clay, you don't know that secret Julianna is hiding from Bryce, and, frankly, you don't know the ending! I am planning on completing this story by the end of August. I'd love it if you'd continue to read and review! Thank you! I'm not a huge fan of this chapter, this doesn't sound like Bryce at all, but I'd like to know your thoughts on it.**

They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone. For that, I found out the hard way.

It had only been two days, but home felt different. There was a feeling of unusual emptiness around the rooms Granddad would be found in. Almost immediately, Mom tried to make it seem like he wasn't here at all. The day after the funeral, she had moved Granddad's chair in the dinning room to storage in the basement and his room upstairs had been cleaned until all traces of him were gone. Now, it was only the four of us again, just the way Dad from the very start wanted it to be. He was the one egging Mom on to remove anything associated with the word Chet and either burn it, store it somewhere where it will never be found again, or donate it. Unfortunately, Dad's wishes got granted.

The only evidence that Granddad was not some figment of imagination was the family photo hung in the living room. It was difficult to not notice how often Mom paused to look at it while she was in the process of cleaning. Once, I spotted Lynetta scrutinizing over it while discussing completely irrelevant things with a friend on the phone. Strangely, Dad and I had a common disregard for the photo, maybe for different reasons, but still.

While Dad ignored it because he simply wanted to forget, I ignored it because I didn't want to remember. I decided pretending Granddad was not around to begin with would be an easy way to part with him. After all, something you didn't have to begin with you couldn't miss, right?

I wouldn't be lying when I say I spend most of the hours in the day trying _not _to look at that one photo. Trust me, my friend; it wasn't as if I didn't want to look at it, I was just afraid of what might happen to me if I did. I could picture the waterworks starting up and once they began, I couldn't stop them. I wouldn't cry, heck, I _couldn't _cry, because if Dad found out, hell would relocate to my very house.

_Be a man, Bryce. Stop being such a coward._

Should I apologize for having a heart? Dad had gone through his own parent's deaths and for neither of them did he shed a single tear. If you didn't know him, it would have been difficult to detect any form of sadness from him. After fourteen years of careful study, I knew he got sad just like the next person, but it was only briefly and very unnoticeable. It was in his eyes where you saw it; that shock and hurt, that realization that, oops, something in his _perfect _world had gone wrong. Don't think I'm evil for enjoying that startling look in his eyes from time to time. You would, too, if you saw how many things you've been upset about he took only as enjoyment.

I watched Dad from the corner of the living room as he himself watched Mom, who was looking at the very photo just mentioned. He kept his comments out of hearing range from her, knowing one harsh remark would tear her to pieces. After the funeral, Mom had been very fragile. One wrong move and she'd break down. However, the very moment she left the room, a far away look in her eyes with stains of tears, Dad couldn't hold in his thoughts.

"What do you say, Bryce. Want to take that picture down?"

I stared at him hard. I'd have to have a brilliant explanation to change his view of this. Once Dad was set on something, it was extremely difficult to get him off it.

"Why would you do that?" I asked instead.

He laughed a little too forcefully.

"Do you see what that's doing to your mother? Lynetta, even! I believe that the moment that pictures taken down, this household will get back to normal."

"But then there won't be anything left of Granddad," I told him quietly.

Dad shrugged and got up to his feet, strolling over to the photo as if, like Mom, he spent many moments of the day staring at it. Under his breath, I swore I heard something on the lines of, "That wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

"Plus, I don't think Mom would let you."

"It's my household just as much as hers," Dad reminded me.

"Yeah, but that means you have to compromise with her."

On tiptoes, Dad took hold of the picture frame and slid it effortlessly from the hook positioning it to the wall, holding the photo out at arms length. Carelessly, he let go of it with one of his hands, letting it dangle threateningly in the other.

"We wouldn't need to compromise if the picture frame accidentally broke," He told me with a malicious smile.

"You could always get a new frame," I shot back at him.

"What if the picture was destroyed?"

I could see the fire in his eyes. Man, fire. He would burn it. I knew him well enough to see the flames already lighting up the flimsy paper, smoldering it until it was mere ashes. And he'd go through with it, too. Make up some stupid excuse to Mom about how the entire photo and picture frame had miraculously disappeared. He'd find a way to blame it on the Bakers if he could come up with a likely story. He was that sick.

Sadly, I was the only one capable of being that photos hero.

"I don't think you should do that." I picked my words carefully.

"Do you enjoy watching your mother walk around crying? Chet has to go. He's dead, anyway, so we can forget about him now."

Dad flipped the frame around to open it from the back. In a matter of seconds, the frame was empty and the photo was in his hands. I stood up and walked with baby steps towards him, contemplating the perfect approach to this situation. I couldn't simply rip the photo from his hands and run. He'd find me. Talking Dad down from not destroying it was out of the question. When did he follow ones advice if it wasn't his own?

I was actually getting angry and I could think of many reasons why, but mostly it was because Dad was an idiot. He claimed _I _was the coward. It was one picture and Dad could not _stand _it. What did that make him? I really wish I could deck him one sometime. He deserved a good punch in the face.

"Dad, just let it go. Put it in storage, hide it away, just don't destroy it. Mom cries now, but what do you think she'll do when she sees what you've done?"

If he registered anything I had just said he didn't show it. In one quick motion, his hands could crush that photo into a ball and it could go sailing into the garbage can.

The photo wasn't too old. It had to have been taken a few years ago, during the Christmas season. All five of us were standing around our tree, each in a decor of green and red clothes and silly reindeer antlers. It wasn't the special occasion that made the picture treasuring; it was because it was the only picture with all five of us in it.

I remember Mom proudly putting it up for display.

"Finally, a full family picture!" She exclaimed. "Isn't it lovely, Bryce?"

Lovely, no, I looked like a fool in those antlers. But it was of all five of us and, antlers or not, that meant something.

"Dad?" I attempted to get his attention. "Dad? Dad, listen to me."

Dad was a ticking time bomb. Start the timer and you couldn't stop it. Since he took the photo in his hands, he's been counting down the time. And he just got to zero.

In a jerk of his hands, the photo was suddenly getting ripped apart. I could only watch for a second as shreds of it, like confetti, fell to the floor.

"Stop!" I heard myself yell. I pulled on Dad's arm. "Stop!"

He shoved me aside.

"Chet's not coming back, Bryce. Just forget about him. He was just some old-"

"No!" I covered up his words. "Just stop, Dad!"

"I'm trying to help-"

_Smack_

My hand made contact with his face. So fast I couldn't believe I had done it. But if felt so good I almost hit him again. Oh, how much he deserved it! He had no right to destroy something worth so much to the rest of us.

But I was expecting him to hit me back.

In a flash, my head was spinning and I was bracing myself on the floor, trying to grip what had just happened. Almost immediately, the room began to reshape itself back into my vision, with Dad front and center.

"Don't you dare hit me!" Dad yelled into my face, too loud, too everywhere. "Don't you dare hit your father!"

"Then stop ruining everything!"

That was Lynetta's voice, loud and clear behind me. She stormed into the room and yanked the half shredded photo from Dad's grip. She stared at it for a moment before letting out a loud shriek.

"Mom loved this picture. Why would you do this?" She exclaimed.

"It's just a photo!" Dad shouted back as Lynetta said, "And you hit Bryce, too. Smooth, Dad, real smooth!"

It couldn't be a true family argument until Mom joined us. As if on cue, she was kneeling beside me, her motherly instincts drawing her to me than to Lynetta and Dad's persistent yells.

"Bryce, why is your face so red?" She asked softly. She caressed my face. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Mom, don't you see what Dad did?" Lynetta tried to ask her calmly.

She turned around and saw the photo and her face fell.

"R-Rick, what did you _do_?"

What happened after that, I couldn't say. I found my way upstairs and stared at my bruising cheek for a moment in the mirror before going to my room and crawling into my bed. Downstairs, all that could be heard was yelling.

I sighed. I couldn't recall things like this happening when Granddad was around. Sure, we sometimes got into fights, but it wasn't anything major. Somehow, he had managed to take all the sanity we had with him to his grave. All I could say was welcome insanity.

And say goodbye to the life I'd never known I'd miss so much. Because it, like Granddad, was never coming back.


	21. Brown and Green Eyes

The days after the funeral, I dreamed things I never thought I'd dream again.

First, I was back dribbling a soccer ball around my dirt front yard, my concentration drifting to the moving van parked across the street where the Loski family was just beginning to move in. Mrs. Loski was standing at the entry way, holding open the door as a man vaguely similar to Mr. Loski carried in boxes. My feet stopped abusing the soccer ball to watch what I was expecting to be Bryce coming out from the moving van. Even in dreams, my anxiousness wasn't controllable. Finally, a playmate I remembered thinking. Finally, someone who could be my friend.

Only, when at last a body appeared coming swiftly down the ramp, he wasn't carrying a box and he wasn't Bryce. All I could see was his brown eyes, the ones I've grown afraid of, but slowly I found his menacing smile pulling up his lips that was even the more terrifying. At the end of the ramp, he paused. Slowly, his shaggy brown head turned to the right then made its way to look at me on his left. His eyes, like fire, burned into mine. If any thoughts of running away were going through my mind, my legs were too paralyzed to do anything. Around me, the world was melting away, leaving only those brown eyes transfixed to me and me alone. I desperately prayed he'd stay there. Yet, just as I hoped this, with a sudden look in his eyes that I took as anger, he was running straight towards me.

A scream escaped my lips as the scene went dark and my body spun haphazardly out of control. Everywhere, hands touched and burned my exposed skin. Lips taunted me with playful kisses. My mind screamed at me to escape, if anything fight back, but, even as my legs and arms flailed about, I felt like I had no control over myself.

"Stop!" The word spat out of my mouth with a rush of air. "Stop, Grant!"

Grant. I hadn't said or much less thought his name in a little over seven years. Somehow, this only made things worse.

Now, the hands ripped at my skin, sending me into painful wails as I felt the skin split and the blood flow. The kisses turned into sharp bits. Fingers grasped a hold of my neck, chocking out the air fighting its way into my lungs.

_Fight. _I commanded my arms, my legs. _Fight!_

But the hands were enclosing around me, holding my whole body in place as the fingers continued their death grip around my neck. I could feel myself slipping, going into an even denser darkness where I'd never find my way out. _Fight. _The word came out only as a mumble. My eyes fluttered to stay open, but, with one more dull thump of a heartbeat, I felt my entire body shut down and go limp.

I fell into Grant's body and, immediately, he pulled his arms around me.

"You're okay," He whispered. Laughter was in his tone. "See, wasn't that fun?"

I wanted to tear away from his grip but my brain wasn't strong enough to send that instruction to the rest of my body. In fact, this felt more like a coma. I could see and feel everything around me, only I couldn't respond to it. Grant pulled me closer to him, my small body getting crushed under his large, rather muscular one.

"Why are you so afraid of me?" He asked into my ear. Casually, his teeth bit my earlobe. "I only want to be friends."

Then, as with all of these dreams, his body turned to fire.

Instantly, a blazing rage of heat penetrated my skin and, resurfacing out of a state of paralyzing fear, I scrambled to get away from it. Only, the harder I tried to break away, the greater the flames became. The darkness was now an array of red and orange. Smoke filled my airway, again leaving me gasping for breath. _Run. _This command my body could figure out. My legs, with numbing pain, managed to find its ability to run, and I took off at a far slower speed than I hoped.

But the flames were everywhere. My skin, my mind, was on fire, and every which way I turned the heat welcomed me into its deathly grasp. In the mass of warmth, Grant's taunting voice echoed off distant walls, luring me back towards him in promise to make the fire stop. I knew better. With Grant, everything only got much worse than it should possible get.

And just as the dream started, it ended with an abrupt shake of my shoulders.

Opening my eyes, instead of seeing fire, I saw Mom.

"Are you okay?" She asked me gently. She was still dressed in pajamas and she looked worn out, but this look wasn't unusual. I couldn't tell of many days where she was completely energized. Maybe when I was younger, but now, it took some effort to even make her smile.

"Was I screaming?" I whispered.

"No, not this time, just thrashing around a little. Did you have a nightmare again?"

Slowly, I eased up into a sitting position. Instantly, my head felt woozy and light headed. I hadn't realized I was out of breath and, trying to be calm, I breathed in needed air.

"It's funny, Mom. Ever since Chet died, I keep having this same dream. And it has nothing to do with him. I just don't get it."

Mom stroked my messy hair, saying, "Life's funny sometimes."

"Yeah. But why does it feel like this dream is suppose to mean something?"

Mom shook her head and got up to her feet. We both looked towards my alarm clock at the same time. It was about nine in the morning.

"Just forget about it, Juli. It's just a dream and it'll have to go away eventually. I came in here initially to tell you some boy is waiting for you outside."

"Bryce?" I asked almost hopefully.

"No, that new boy…I can't think of his name."

"Clay?"

"Yeah, Clay. He's been waiting outside for five minutes. He wants to show you something. Hurry up and get dressed so you don't keep him waiting too long."

The need to rush to get dressed was taken lightly. I was still shaken from that nightmare and, even over the loud voices of the twins from downstairs; I could hear Grant's voice calling out to me. Stopping midway of putting on my shirt, I violently shook my head. I had to get rid of him. Nightmares were enough; he couldn't join me for the rest of the day, too. If only I could figure out a reason why this dream even started. _Did _it have something to do with Chet? But if it did, then how?

When I managed to get outside ten minutes later, I found Clay kneeling down on the grass, looking intently at the small blades peaking out from the dirt. He didn't hear me walk over to him until I was leaning over his hunched body, trying to figure out what he was looking at. He happened to look up at that exact moment and he jumped.

"Whoa, Julianna, you scared me." He stood up and gave me a shy smile while his cheeks flushed a light pink.

"Sorry. What were you doing?"

He kicked the ground a little.

"Just waiting around for you. This grass. " He gestured to the ground with his hands. "When did you plant it?"

_When Chet was still here _I thought, but aloud I said, "A few months ago. It pretty much consumes my life. I take care of it as much as I can. I'm hoping one of these days I won't be able to see the dirt."

Clay grinned. Next, he pointed to the sycamore tree.

"And what about that?"

That, well, that was far more special to me than even these tiny blades of green I'd watch grow. The tree wasn't only a reminder of the tall, big sycamore tree that I use to climb before it was cut down, but this one simple gift connected me to Bryce. It made me believe there was more to him than met the eye. It showed me he cared. As the tree grew, no matter how many years it's been and where Bryce and I are in our lives, the sycamore tree will always bring me back to him.

I gave Clay the shorter version.

"Bryce planted it for me."

"Can I ask why?"

I let Clay's question pass as my legs, without my knowledge, carried me over to the tiny tree that was barely four feet high. I brushed my hand along its smooth trunk. One day, it would make an amazing climbing tree. I doubt I'd be here to see it in its full adult form, but I hoped, whoever may live here, they'd climb up and see the world just as I had once done. That experience you couldn't know by someone describing it to you. You had to actually try it yourself.

Clay came up to stand next to me and for a moment we both stood there looking at it. What I saw was the magnificence of nature. What Clay saw was probably just a tree.

"Just wait until it's big," I promised him. "It's beautiful."

"Like you?"

My body tensed up as I snuck a peek at Clay's face. He was, at usual it seemed, really close to me and I took a giant step back.

"I'm sorry," He said quickly. His grin fell to a more apologetic one. "I can't help but tell the truth."

"No, no, it's okay. I'm just not used to someone saying that to me. You're really…open."

"Yeah, well." He shook his head. I knew personally this motion did nothing but leave you dizzy. Trying hard to drop the awkwardness, he turned to walk over to my porch. I curiously followed.

I hadn't noticed a large canvas drawing leaning against the railing until now. Immediately I knew Clay had drawn or painted a picture for me. It wasn't just of anything, either. Somehow, since Bryce had destroyed Clay's first portrait of me, he had managed to recreate it.

I stared at my painted reflection with wide eyes and I felt my lips beginning to quiver.

"Clay…" I tried to form my emotions into words. "Clay, this-"

_Don't cry, Julianna. _I warned myself. _Don't be such a baby. It's just a picture._

Yeah, but it was a picture too real and too beautiful to form to words. It was art that I could sadly say went way past the best works in my father's collection. It almost felt like I could reach in to touch my cheek or nose. My eyes glowed to life on the page. The backdrop Clay painted behind me, of my backyard, made it seem like we were truly there and not just looking in to it.

"Well, do you like it?" Clay asked quietly.

I almost couldn't stop myself from jumping on him. Instead, I clapped my hands together and tried to form some words of praise.

"It's…" I gulped and tried again. "I honestly don't know what to say, Clay. Thank you."

Another pink blush formed on his cheeks as he tried not to smile. His green eyes, sparkling in the sunlight, met mine and held. He _was_ cute. And it felt strange for him to have such an interest in me, _me, _Julianna Baker, who was far from anything special.

"If you want me to paint you anything else, I'd be happy to. I spend most of my day doing something of that sort, anyway, and it'd be nice to have something different to draw."

"All day? What about spending time with your family?"

Clay shrugged and his eyes lost mine and looked at the ground. "They don't care about me. I told you that last time when I was painting that portrait of you. If I didn't exist, life would be better off it seems."

"No, it wouldn't." I tried to laugh a little bit. What he just said couldn't possible be true. "Without you, who would paint such beautiful pictures?"

He shook his head.

"Julianna, you don't understand, and I'm not expecting you _to _understand." Without warning, Clay took several steps towards the driveway. "We barely know each other, too. I'm already telling you too much."

I followed him, saying, "No, Clay, I really don't know anything. What's wrong? Are you okay?"

He paused. I could see he was fighting with himself, trying to decide what and what not to say.

"Julianna." He took a deep breath and cast down his eyes. "Do you know what it's like to die?"


	22. Bonding Time

**I'm sorry my writing style is so inconsistent. ****But thank you for continuing to read my story. I'm hoping to update more frequently, say every other day. **

Why did it seem like whenever I felt the need to go over to Julianna's house, Clay had already beaten me to the punch?

Looking outside my window with nothing better to do, I was almost on the verge of fury when I saw Juli and Clay standing side by side, each admiring the sycamore tree _I _planted. Just this in itself was enough to make me jealous. I knew if I'd the courage to go over there, Juli wouldn't treat me any differently whether Clay was there or not, but alone without me, I didn't want to imagine the chemistry going on between them. Clearly, Clay had to know Julianna was off limits. We made it official, after all. But that didn't stop him from continuing to be his cocky, flirty self.

And man, was I jealous.

Not only by the way Juli's eyes would light up with his each and every word, but how he could have so much confidence in himself. There was no denying that he was the new kid around town. He was the human form of the mystery meat they served every Tuesday for school lunch. You weren't quite sure who he was, but you tried him out anyway, testing him, poking him around a little. Yet never had the new kid been able to pull up a reputation quite as big as Clay had.

For starters, Clay hadn't step foot in school yet and already an ear sore of rumors had spread around the halls like wildfire. The girls rated his appearance on their date-ability scale while the male population seized up their competition. Art class, once just another unimportant elective, was now looked at in a new thoughtful light.

Most of the time, new kids weren't given so much attention. Within the first week of school, they'd fall into place in their rightful stereotype and their new kid status would fall to the next victim. However, we didn't get new kids often. We were lucky to get one every couple of years. This year it was Clay. And I could tell it was only going to get worse from here.

It was true that I didn't know him enough to form all these opinions on him. But what did you expect when he was going after the girl I had finally found my connection with? He could go for any girl as long as he left Julianna alone. Strangely, he, too, had found that special quality in her that no one seemed to understand. She wasn't just a neighbour, or a girl for that matter, she was the drug to the addiction you didn't know you had until you withdrew away from it. You couldn't have a sunny day without the sun. With each look Juli and Clay exchanged with each other, I could feel the dark clouds coming in for my own personal rainy day.

I closed by blinds in a rush of annoyance and grief. I couldn't look at them anymore. Averting my attention towards the cold and dripping bag of ice- now water- my hand slowly moved across my swollen face.

The ice had helped ease the swelling, but what remained was the red slash across my cheek, an instant and bothersome reminder of Dad's uncontrollable rage over a stupid, but precious, family picture. I really should have known it was coming. He had once had the indecency of hitting Lynetta when the Bakers were over for dinner. And he claimed the Bakers were the problem family. Reality check, Dad.

The yelling had died down in the living room over an hour ago, but escaping the confines of my bedroom didn't seem like a wise choice. This was only stage one of a multiple stage war between Mom and Dad. Once they were done with this first round of yelling, they'd escape to different rooms of the house to think up a new, argument infused strategy. This would continue until one of them would give up the fight. Usually, Mom was the one waving the white flag of surrender.

When we were younger, Lynetta and I would sit together in one of our rooms while the yelling raged on downstairs. No words were ever exchanged and neither was any form of comforting looks or touches, but sitting together, a few feet apart usually, there was some strange comfort in that. It became a bonding time for us. We never learned more about each other, but we felt connected because both of us were directly or indirectly related to the fighting happening between our parents.

Now, a small side of me wished she was here right now. She could be the most annoying person in the entire world, but she was my sister. That had to count for something.

I went over to my bedroom door and slowly eased it open, making sure to pause before the spot where the hinges would give a ear deafening squeak- just another thing Dad claimed he'd eventually fix. Lynetta's door mirrored mine from across the hall, but hers was closed, but then again when wasn't it? From here, a subtle beat of a base drum mixed with the beating of my heart. This was typical, too. Lynetta lived for rock and roll.

I found myself knocking at her door without a sure reason. It was probably a mixture of boredom and the need to forget about the fact that Clay was flirting it up with Julianna. Regardless, Lynetta was my only go to person with whatever emotions I was dealing with.

Surprisingly, she opened the door after the third knock. Sticking her head through the opening, my nostrils flared as they were hit with an assortment of girly perfumes. How could girls stand it?

"Yes?" She enquired with a raised eyebrow.

I struggled to not sound so desperate for some company, but it came out like that anyway.

"I'm…bored."

"And since when did you come knocking on my door when you were bored?"

"Um…well…"

"Come on, baby brother," Lynetta smiled. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Entering Lynetta's room was similar to travelling to an entirely new galaxy. Just think punk rock mixed with a feminine flare and you got Lynetta's room. Black and pink blurred together every which way you looked and overtop her hot pink walls, dark and angry band posters overlapped one another for cheap artwork. Carefully, I sat down on her black bedspread, making sure to not spill the pile of makeup scattered across it. Lynetta returned to the mirror over her dresser to mess with her hair.

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked her, noticing she was wearing the outfit Mom almost refused to buy her because she said it was too scandalous. But Lynetta had her ways of getting what she wanted.

"Hmm? Did you say something?" She called over her music.

"Where are you going?" I yelled.

She turned to give me another mischievous smile. Her face looked like a mini explosion. Thick makeup covered her eyes and she looked like she had been sucking blood with that bright red lipstick.

"I'm going to see a band with the Baker twins. Twisted Ashes they're called. They came up here from a thousand plus miles away for a one night showing, and I'm not missing out whatever Mom and Dad says about it."

"Where are they playing?" I was expecting someone's garage, a similar stage the Bakers used for their own band.

"Where do you think? At a club."

"But you're only seventeen. How are you going to get it?"

Lynetta rolled her eyes.

"_Please_, Bryce. I know what I'm doing."

If Lynetta was planning on ditching me, this only meant I'd have to spend the evening with only my parents who, knowing them, were readying for another verbal battle. A feeling of betrayal flashed through me, but only briefly. Maybe Lynetta had forgotten our old rituals of sticking together during times like these. Maybe she just didn't get that this surprise and unnatural visit to her perfume drenched room could only mean I actually wanted to spend time with her.

Then the idea hit. I knew it would be a stretch, but if I eased her in slowly, I might be able to pull it off.

"Lynetta, why haven't you ever taken me to any of your concerts?"

"Take my little brother? No one does that, Bryce."

"I'm not little anymore. I'm going to be in high school next year."

"Your point being?" Lynetta asked.

"I listen to music similar to-" Just then an ear splinting scream came through the speakers, fading out as a monstrous guitar solo ripped up the rest of the noise. And they called _this _music. "I-I like listening to this music," I ended in a rush.

"Oh, I'm so sure, Bryce."

"No, really!" I exclaimed.

Finally done with her wild hairdo, Lynetta turned around to pose. The look made her seem older but trashy. One look at her and Mom would have a full out fit.

"Bryce, what are you getting at? Are you trying to say you want to come with because that's not gonna happen."

"Please, Lynetta? Just one night. You're going to leave me here while the storm is brewing downstairs? I'm not some baby brother anymore; you won't have to look after me. I just need to get out of here."

I could see it in her eyes that Lynetta was considering.

"I'll do your chores for a week," I added.

"How about a month?"

"If that's what it takes to let me go with you."

Lynetta stared at me with a hard expression, and then she sighed in utter annoyance, flopping down her arms in defeat.

"Fine," She said, drawing out the word. "But you're not wearing that. I'm going to be seen with you, so you have to look your part. Come on; let's go invade your closet."

"Really?" My head perked up in surprise.

"Hurry up before I change my mind."

I followed her with sudden eagerness. I don't know why I was so excited. Maybe it was because I could forget about Clay and Julianna, Granddad even, with some horrible, ear bleeding music.


	23. The Luring Artist

**Okay, it's been awhile, so let's refresh on some things. The next few chapters of this story may be a little… out there, but bear with me. Remember that Julianna is keeping a secret from Bryce and this secret revolves around something that happened when she was six. Also, Clay claims that his parents ignore him and/or don't care for him. This chapter continues on from chapter twenty-one, so if you need a refresher, take a look back at that chapter. This chapter is a little boring, but it sets everything up for chapter 25. **

"Do you know what it's like to die?"

I didn't know what I was taken aback by more, Clay's question or the seriousness of how he asked it. Unable to form any response, I could only stare at him, forming a bubble of awkward silence that grew only the more unbearable as time went on.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, Clay took another wavering step back.

"Just forget it, Juli," he mumbled after a while. He sensed my confusion. "I'll see you around."

I watched him turn to leave, wearing a look of either pain or regret, and for some reason it bugged me. What if Clay was being completely honest about his question? Maybe it didn't made sense, but perhaps it meant something to him, something that he hoped I'd catch on to. What if he had witnessed death? What if he had contemplated death? What if…

"Clay!"

Springing forward, my hand lunged, caught, and held onto his, reeling him back towards me. I thought he'd let go, but as his eyes met mine and a sad smile lifted on his lips, his fingers only squeezed more tightly.

"What are you doing today?" I asked casually.

He thought a moment, then said, "Nothing really."

"Maybe we could… hang out?"

His face brightened immensely. "Do you want to?"

"Yeah, sure," I half lied, forming a smile on my face.

Clay didn't have to know that I was only asking to spend time with him to try to get more information about what he kept saying about his parents and that last question he seemed so unsure in asking. I wanted to help him. Yeah, maybe I didn't know what exactly he needed help with, but I was willing to dig in deep and find out.

"So what do you want to do?" Clay's hand finally slipped from my own.

"I'll do whatever you want to."

"Hmm…" Clay snapped his fingers as if a light bulb suddenly went off in his head. "Let's go to my house. I have something to show you."

He held out his hand again, waiting for mine to conform into his, and I gingerly accepted it. Swinging our hands back and forth childishly, we headed over to Clay's empty house.

I tried not to eye up Bryce's house when we passed it, but my gaze hovered over his bedroom window anyway. I wondered what he was doing. We hadn't really talked since Chet's funeral where Bryce had confessed how much he liked me. I thought that would only bring us closer, but it seemed that Bryce had different ideas. I hoped he didn't regret what he had said to me, because honestly, it was nice hearing it. It gave me butterflies in my stomach, and I always imagined that was one of those feelings I'd never get a chance to experience.

However, I couldn't deny the weightless, unimaginable feeling of Clay's hand wound tightly over mine. His skin was smooth, firm, but comforting. By the way he spoke to me and even complemented me; we had a slight attraction to each other. Where that attraction would go I didn't know.

When we finally reached the threshold of his house and Clay had to fish in his pocket for the house key, a small part of me didn't want him to let go of my hand.

"Are your parents home?" I asked.

He shook his head, pushing the door open. Cool, air-conditioned air drifted towards us. Walking inside, his house had changed dramatically since he gave Bryce and me a tour. All their belongings had been unpacked and placed in their rightful spots throughout the house, a deep, calming blue painted across most of the walls. I followed Clay upstairs, staring wide-eyed at all his drawings hanging up on display.

"You didn't really get to watch me when I drew that portrait of you," Clay said as we entered his semi messy room. "So I was wondering if you'd like me to draw something else for you so you can watch."

"I'd love that, Clay," I agreed.

He scooped down to the bottom drawer of his dresser where an assortment of papers, books, and writing utensils were held. Dozens of half drawn pictures were scattered around inside, as well as scripts for plays.

"What are those for?" He saw me looking at the _Romeo and Juliet _play script and he quickly shut the drawer.

"I don't even know; my mom just kind of throws random stuff in there."

He climbed up on his bed and patted the space beside him, a wondrous, anticipated look creeping on his face. We both stared at his bed. It was small, a twin size, with a blue comforter and a light blue pillow to match. I was sure this was the first time a boy had ever offered for me to sit on his bed with him. The gesture itself wasn't weird, but the bed itself felt awkward. Beds were for sleep… if not for intimacy.

I cautiously climbed on, seating myself next to him. Our thighs pressed together, shoulders bumping into one another.

"What do you want me to draw?" Clay turned to me expectantly. The closeness of his face to mine was by mere inches.

"Um, whatever you want. I don't care."

"I could draw us."

"Don't you need a picture for reference?" I asked.

"No," he said simply.

"Okay, sure."

Clay made a clean, effortless stroke across the blank paper, and it only took a few more swishes of his hand to begin to form the lines into the elements of a picture. His work was so smooth and yet so careful, I was drawn into it. Unconsciously, I leaned my cheek against his shoulder, the silence enveloping around us as we both became entranced by Clay's drawing.

Minutes felt like hours. Clay expertly drew his bedroom right down to the last detail. He had just started to draw us sitting on his bed when he broke the silence softly.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier. About my parents."

I lifted my head from his shoulder to look at him. "It's okay. We can talk about it if you want."

He shook his head. "It's one of those secrets I don't really share with anyone."

"You're not the only one who has secrets."

He turned to look at me as well, his expression curious.

"What could you be possible hiding?"

"I'll…" I gulped, already regretting the direction this was going. "I'll tell you if you tell me."

He considered it for a moment.

"Okay, but let's form it into a game."

"A game?"

His luring green eyes drew mischievous and he leaned in closer until our noses were practically touching. I forgot how to breathe; my head thumped loudly inside my chest. Clay was going to kiss me. I could feel it. And neither my gut nor my heart told me to stop him.

My lips parted slightly, my eyes closing. The silence that fell around us was chilling, but the anticipation was deadly. I _wanted _him to kiss me. I had Bryce, I had a boyfriend, but... after being so lonely and rejected in school and then finally meeting someone who took interest in me... I couldn't help it.

I heard a low chuckle and my eyes slowly opened again.

"So, Julianna," Clay whispered. "Truth or dare?"


	24. Five Steps to the Worst Night Ever

Lynetta had lied to me. Did we arrive at a club to listen to a hard core scream-o band? No, my friend, we showed up to a jungle with wild, vicious animals and a watering hole full of beer.

We had barely taken two steps into the building before my baby brother instincts kicked in and I was grabbing for Lynetta's hand for protection. She whirled around to give me a death glare.

"I didn't take you here to baby-sit you," she screamed over the music, yanking her hand away. She shifted her head to watch the Baker twins ease into the crowd of people, and I knew it wouldn't be long before she was following them, leaving her helpless, underage brother alone to fend for himself.

"Don't leave me here," I pleaded. God, I sounded pathetic, but I was desperate. The band hadn't even played a song yet and I wanted to leave.

"Bryce, you're fine." Lynetta said, moving towards the mass of people grinding across the dance floor. "We're meeting at the door at eleven. Be there."

I stood there and stared as the last of my courage followed Lynetta to disappear into a mass of confusion. Man, what had I gotten myself into? So much for escaping the war zone at home. This was plain old anarchy.

And this began the five step process to having the worst night ever.

**Step One: Get ditched by your posse.**

The deep thud of the bass drum pounded inside my head, and I quickly moved towards the corner of the room to make more distance between me and the gothic looking band members on center stage. It turned out to be a bad idea. Pressing my back against the wall, I immediately realized the corner had been reserved for couples who wanted to make out.

Embarrassed, I literally ran towards the bar area. It was a short run since the club itself was small. Shaped into a square, a bar and stage took up two of the walls and the other half of the room was full to capacity with drunk bodies. Seizure worthy lights flashed from the stage, making the whole scene a little more disorienting and chaotic. The entire color scheme was a wash of midnight black.

Was this really Lynetta's idea of fun? Gosh, if Mom and Dad found out about this, they'd freak. I could definitely use this as a form of blackmail. That was, if I made it out alive.

I caught a glimpse of a person that looked vaguely like Lynetta and I spun around, slamming into someone with so much force they crashed to the ground.

"Oh, sorry," I said on instinct.

A woman looked up from the floor as she tried to pull down her skin tight white dress. Her blue eyes locked with mine, and, man, the smile that spread across her lips was nothing but flirty. She eyed me up, stopping at a very awkward area. Glancing down at her empty wine glass and then back up at me a few times, she laughed.

"Well, that's embarrassing," she exclaimed over the music.

I looked down. My crouch was soaked. Sometime during her fall, the woman had spilt her wine on my pants. It looked like I had wet myself.

I couldn't see any way out of the situation, so I laughed with her, though I was more pissed than anything. Hopefully it was too dark for anyone else to notice. Lynetta wouldn't let me live it down if she saw this.

I was too busy terrorizing myself with different scenarios relating to wet pants that I didn't notice the woman had stood up until she tapped my shoulder.

"Hey, there, I'm Sandra. Wanna get a drink?"

I looked up and I swore drool was dripping from my mouth. Sandra was hot. She had bouncy brunette curls that fell nicely over her curvy body and lipstick red lips. Whatever heels she had on made her tower over me. She had to be in her twenties.

"Um, what?" I mumbled.

She laughed again, wobbling a little on her feet. She was drunk. "You're funny. Come on." She winked, brushing a hand down my arm. "Let's go to the bar."

"Um, okay." I gave her a small smile back and it was enough for her to pull an arm around me to lead me towards the bar area.

**Step Two: Flirt with a chick double your age.**

She almost slipped again when she tried to sit down on a bar stool and I had to grab her hand to straighten her up. Breathing out the smell of liquor, she leaned in close, took my offered hand, and kissed it, loud, dramatic smooching sound in all.

"You're my hero," she giggled breathlessly. "Where have you been all my life?"

I probably wasn't even born yet. Her face fell into a pout as I leaned as far away from her as possible.

Didn't this chick see I was half her age? Or were the lights, dark room, and her drunken state enough to camouflage the fact that I was half a foot shorter than her, as pale as a ghost, and had barely a muscle on me? Thinking about my own problem with older, flirty women, I wondered where Lynetta was. Was _she _getting hit on by some thirty-something-year-old man? Was she getting thrown into some big, black van to never been seen again?

I took a quick glance behind me, but like I expected, I saw no glimpse of Lynetta or the Baker twins. The band had just begun playing, so hopefully the three of them were together near the stage.

"Here!" A hand grabbed my face and turned me around.

"Drink this!" Sandra told me, sliding over a shot glass.

She as well as a few others around the table had one as well, and it looked like one guy was attempting to give a speech. After a few loud cheers, they all chugged it down in one gulp.

Sighing in satisfaction, Sandra looked upset when she realized I had not participated in their "bottoms up."

"Just try it. _Please_. You'll love it, I swear. _Please, please, please_!" Her pleases went on forever.

I looked back down at the shot glass. Maybe it wasn't a horrible idea. I mean, what was one drink going to do? And if it got Sandra to shut up, all the better.

I grasped the glass with my fingers, brought it up to my lips, and, with a jerk of my head, emptied its contents into my mouth. Immediately, a disgusting taste burned in my throat and I starting coughing.

Sandra patted my back hard. "Try another one, babe. Everything goes down better after the first one."

Finding another shot glass thrust into my hand, Sandra forced it to my lips. She was right. This one went down better, but it did not lessen the awful aftertaste in my mouth.

**Step Three: Drink something nasty.**

I forgot how many shots we took. It had to be between three and seven. I wanted to stop, but Sandra just kept forcing them into my mouth.

It wasn't long after that when the room started to spin. The blinking lights faded from my vision and all sound became slowed and muddled.

Sandra took both my hands and tried to stand both of us up. We wobbled on our feet for a few seconds and narrowly fell twice, but we found our ground and headed towards the dance floor. Pulled into the midst of a jungle full of wild animals, Sandra seemed content in joining in their crazy dance. She started moving her hips in time to the bass beat and her hands flailed above her head. When she noticed I was just standing there, she pulled up close. Too close.

"You… dance… me?"

Her words made no sense, but by her actions, it was clear she wanted to dance with me. She pulled both her arms around my waist and my hands rested on her shoulders.

The height difference made our attempt at ballroom dancing a disaster. I think Sandra picked me up once to equalize our height to try to kiss me, but I managed to dodge it as a large body bolted into us.

Sandra staggered. Landing back down on my feet, I rushed to save us, but when the same guy slammed into us again, we crashed down.

For a moment, all I could see was black. The liquor in my system was making it difficult to think, see, or act straight. After blinking a few times, my eyes caught the abrupt movement of a fist moving to make contact with a face. There was a loud crack, and the guy groaned as blood poured from his nose.

I stared at the face. Why did he look kind of familiar? Then it clicked. The guy who had just been punched one either Matt or Mike.

"Ma- Mik-" I slurred, getting up on my feet. "Are you o-"

**Step Four: Get caught up in a drunken fight.**

Man, I was down again before I could take three steps.

Whichever guy Matt or Mike was fighting wanted all the space he could get. My back landed hard on the cement floor. I tried to register what was happening and where I was just as one of the Baker twins fell on top of me.

Slamming back down to the floor, I groaned. What was going on? Honestly, all I wanted to do now was go to sleep. I felt sick, I felt tired, and I did not like the fight getting thrown down here.

My eyes started closing. Maybe I could get a few minutes sleep-

"Mike, stop!"

My eyes flashed open. That was Lynetta's voice.

"Ly-lynetta?"

"Mike, just stop! Come on, let's go! Matt is getting the car and I just need to find Bryce. Mike, seriously!"

I vaguely watched Lynetta pull Mike away from the angry man who had seemed to calm down once seeing Lynetta there. Mike yanked his arm from Lynetta's grip but obeyed and stormed towards the entrance. Lynetta found me in a second.

"Bryce, what the hell happened to you?"

"I- I don't-"

She pulled me up, and I had to lean all my weight on her to walk without falling. The entire way towards the doors, she didn't stop complaining.

Soon I found myself in the backseat of the Baker's crappy Pinto. Lynetta slowly shrugged a seatbelt over me. I could tell by her face and slow movements that I wasn't the only one a little drunk. And based on what Matt and Mike were saying, they were too.

"Go home?" Matt the driver said abruptly and awkwardly.

"Drive," Lynetta ordered before slumping down beside me. Her eyes starting closing as sleep pulled her into unconsciousness. It didn't take long for me to follow her, and I was barely awake when we completed the last and more terrifying step in the five steps to the worst night ever.

**Step Five: Drive home with less orientation than you arrived with. **


	25. Secrets

**Well, here goes nothing… **

Julianna~

Clay's question really caught me off guard. One moment I thought he was going to kiss me and the next moment he was asking me whether I wanted truth… or dare.

It seemed like a silly question, actually. I always imaged truth or dare being played by a group of giggling girls at sleepovers or at those awkward boy/girl parties. Never with a neighbor boy whose relationship with me only went back to a few weeks ago. Why should I tell him my truths or complete his dares when I could barely call him a friend? But maybe that was the point. The less we knew of each other, the less we could judge. We were an open playing field, one's secret against another's.

Still, at the sound of Clay's question, I found myself turning my head away. My wanting of his kiss was gone, replaced by an unfamiliar emotion that sent butterflies to flutter inside my stomach. My mouth was going dry. I could feel moister on my hands as nerves set in.

"D-do you not want to play?" Clay asked awkwardly.

"It-it's not that I don't want to," I tried to say. My hands twisted in my lap.

"I thought we agreed that if I told you my secrets, you'd tell me yours."

I took a deep breath and turned back towards him.

Clay's face was at a less distracting distance away, but it seemed like his green eyes were even more prevalent now that they mixed with concern and confusion. He had set his sketch of us aside, giving me his utmost attention. The silence that was filling the room was growing more uncomfortable with each of my wavering breaths; we were both waiting for me to speak.

If Clay had really meant what he said at my house this morning, then maybe this was his way of expressing how he truly felt. These truth or dare questions, what if they went deeper than just inquiries in a game? Hadn't I only wanted to hang out with him to get more information, to figure him out? Maybe truth or dare was the way to do that.

I gulped and I was sure Clay heard me. As much as I wanted to know Clay's past, I was still afraid to share mine. It was such a dark time in my life, like a giant rain cloud in an otherwise blue, cloudless sky. It changed who I am, who I would be. Did someone I barely know deserve to know such a secret?

Clay seemed to sense this. "Juli, if you don't-"

"No, its okay," I said quickly. So quick I didn't have time to regret my decision. "Um, I'll go with… truth."

Even when Clay causally grinned at me, I felt myself biting my lip.

"We'll start off easy." His eyes wandered off for a moment and I stared right at his face, not even trying to do it discreetly. He really was cute. Everything about him, from his full red lips to those emerald green eyes, had a spark that most didn't have.

I was still staring when he looked at me. I held his gaze, thinking back to a few minutes ago when I thought he was going to kiss me. What if he had? What would've I done? What would've I said? I felt somewhat relieved I didn't have to find out.

"So, first question." Clay sat up a little taller. "Why do you like Bryce?"

Instantly, my body went rigid. If I had guessed what Clay was going to ask me, it definitely wasn't that. I didn't know what was worse, knowing I'd have to answer it or knowing this meant having to think about the real reasons I fell for Bryce to begin with.

The explanation sounded stupid now. It was those blue eyes and black hair that made him the center of my universe all those years ago. I guess I was just going through the motions of having a crush; I wasn't thinking, I was just living. But what other elements made Bryce so attractive to me? Was there any at all?

A soft blush formed on my cheeks. "Do I have to tell you?"

"Its part of the game," was all he answered with.

I took a deep breath and tried not to notice how pathetic my answer sounded. "He's cute. He's nice. H-he's… I don't know." I trailed off.

"That sounds…" He rubbed a hand across his chin, thinking. "Generic."

"I guess I've never really thought about," I answered and I realized how much that fact bugged me. Why _did _I like Bryce? What made him more special than any other boy who went to our school?

I shook my head a little. This wasn't the time to worry about something like that. I took the opportunity of silence to ask, "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"When you gave me my portrait, you mentioned something about knowing what it's like to die. What did you mean by that?"

Clay's facial expression hardened.

"If that's an okay question to ask; I don't know. You said truth," I added in a rush.

"No, its okay," he said quietly. He was silent for a few beats before he said, in a hushed voice, "It's just that my parents completely ignore me. On the outside, to people not in our family, they make us seem perfectly fine, but on the inside it's like I'm not even here." He glanced at the door. "I don't even know where they are now."

"So they just ignore you?" I asked just as quietly. The feeling of the room had grown somber. Words felt like they should be spoken in whispers.

"No, that's not all. When they do see me, they don't have anything nice to say."

"What do they say?"

Clay shrugged. "Stuff. You know, negative stuff, things that make me feel bad about myself," he murmured. His fidgeted with his hands before adding, in such a low whisper I had to lean in to hear, "Sometimes it's like I'm not even alive. I'm dead. They don't want me. I'm not living." He looked at me solemnly. "Do you get what I mean?"

The look set deep in Clay's eyes wasn't a look I had ever seen before. There was pain but something more too, something strange, something maybe even dangerous, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

I wanted to say I understood where he was coming from, but it was hard. My parents loved me; Matt and Mike, no matter how annoying they got, loved me too. I guess I had always been surrounded by a supportive family, and imagining my mom, dad, or brothers any other way left me a little sad. And knowing Clay's sadness was real only made this worse.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely.

Clay shrugged. "I've gotten used to it. I've found ways to deal with it."

How could he possibly deal with it? "How," I said aloud.

With no words of explanation, Clay reached for my hand, and I allowed him to grasp my shaky fingers and lay them gently over his left wrist. I relished in the softness of his skin before lifting my hand up. Instantly, a wave of shock ran through me and my breath caught in my throat. Underneath my hand was the healing remains of a long, thin cut.

"Clay! You-you-" I couldn't even get the words out. "You shouldn't hurt yourself!"

"I just… I just needed to feel something," he tried to explain in a rush.

"No!" My voice got louder. I grabbed for his hand, not even sure why, just knowing holding his hand might give more meaning to how worried I must have looked then.

"Julianna, I'm okay. Really. Don't look so upset."

"You're just a really nice guy, Clay. I don't think you deserve any of this."

Despite the wave of tension washing over the room, Clay managed to smile.

"I'm glad you're worried about me." He rubbed my hand with his gently. "But, honestly, I'm okay, Juli. I don't do it often; it just helps, you know. Breathe. You look really overwhelmed."

It wasn't until he said that that I noticed how hot the room felt. It was like we were sitting in the middle of the sun. I pulled my hair away from my face, off my neck. I really hadn't expected Clay's truth to effect me this much. Or maybe deep inside I was worried about my own truth Clay was expecting me to tell him.

"Are you okay?" I heard him ask.

"Are _you_?"

He looked at me for a moment. "I'm okay if you're okay."

I wished he hasn't answered that way. "Then I don't think… I don't think you're okay," I whispered.

It came back to me unexpectedly, just like in my dream. Grant's deep brown eyes. His strong arms. The fire. Pooling into my thoughts, overpowering my senses, for a moment it felt like I was there again, trapped within the nightmare's grasp, struggling, fighting.

Clay's hand was still wound around mine and he squeezed my fingers. It brought me back to reality. Something wet trailed down my face. Tears. I was _crying._

"Julianna, what's wrong?"

"It's- it's nothing."

"No, tell me what's wrong. What happened?"

I turned away, finding it easier to stare out the window than at the boy sitting next to me.

"Julianna," Clay whispered.

Then the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"A-a really long time ago, before Bryce moved in, another family had lived where he lived. They had a son named Grant. He was sixteen, almost ten years older than I was." I closed my eyes. "I was six years old and I had no friends in the neighborhood, so I would go over and try to talk to him. I thought we could be friends." I shook my head shamefully. "How stupid, how _stupid_ I was."

"What happened?"

"We became friends, or what my six-year-old self thought friends were. My parents always said to stay away from Grant, but I went over to his house when they weren't paying attention because he was the only person I had. He was my only friend.

"I honestly thought he was my best friend. I trusted him so much. I could even say I _loved _him. But he hurt me. He-he hurt me and I didn't even know it."

"What did he do?" Clay whispered.

"We… we did… stuff. He-he made me do stuff. I didn't even know what we were doing; I just went along because-" My voice broke. Clay's hand clung onto mine harder. "I-I trusted him.

"And then I was over at his house one day and my mom showed up and found us." The words were coming out faster. "And I didn't understand why she got so angry or why she called the cops. And I asked her why I couldn't hang out with Grant anymore and I was so upset and then she said he was sexually abusing me and-and I didn't even know it, I didn't know what that was, I didn't-"

I was heaving now, the sobs rising in my throat so quick I couldn't breathe. Wet tears drenched my face. There's was nothing I could control. It felt like I'd left my body, watching myself break down but not being able to do anything to stop myself from giving into the memory.

"Julianna. Julianna." Clay was saying my name over and over again. "Julianna, it's okay. That's all over now."

"He-he-he hurt me so-so bad," I sobbed.

"What he did was terrible. But he's not going to hurt you again."

"He-" Grant's face appeared in my vision and it was terrifying.

Clay shook me. His voice was sterner. "No. Julianna, look at me. You're okay. You're safe."

But I wouldn't stop. And that's when Clay made his move.

In one quick movement, Clay's arms were around me, pulling my face into his chest, my lips pressing against the soft fabric of his shirt. His hands laid flat against my back to keep me against him. He turned his face so his check was resting on the top of my head.

The move caught me off guard, but my body instantly reacted. My hands clung to him. I had to get closer. He felt like life itself. Maybe the closer I got to him, the better chance I had to get out of this nightmare.

I didn't feel like myself at all. I was holding onto Clay and Grant's face was in my head, haunting me, and I didn't want to be here and yet I didn't want to leave and I felt so confused and-

With sudden force, Clay pulled me away. Gasping for breath, I looked at him almost apologetically.

I had just broken down in front of a boy I barely knew. I had just told him the secret only about four other people knew. He must think I'm crazy.

I wiped away the few tears still lingering on my checks.

"I should go," I whispered weakly, embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Clay whispered back. When I started to move away from him, his hands firmly grabbed my waist, forcing me to look back at him. In a louder voice, he commanded, "And don't go."

I tried to laugh but it came out as a cry.

"I'm a mess."

"You're pretty when you cry."

"Don't say that. I should really go, Clay."

I tried pulling away again, but his grip remained. He moved closer.

"Just wait," he breathed.

"For what?" I whispered, staring at his green eyes only inches from my own.

His eyelids closed halfway, making him look both sleepy and attractive. His face moved closer to mine and my heart started beating faster and faster before I could even understand why.

One of his hands came up and stroked my tear-stained check before curling up into my hair. He whispered something, I was just too overwhelmed to understand.

What was going on? This shouldn't have been happening. I had just told Clay my secret and I was in his arms and now this. _This_. Why wasn't I stopping this?

Clay's forehead touched mine. I breathed in his scent before closing my eyes and waiting for his lips to touch mine.


	26. Befriending Cars

I woke up with a monstrous headache and absolutely no clue what was going on. This, my friend, was the most perfect situation to be in right now.

_Not_.

Sitting up from my awkward lying position, I blinked heavily in the dark. Someone was leaning against me, and based on the reek of perfume filling my nose, I determined it to be Lynetta. I roughly pushed her off me. She gave a soft moan as she leaned away from me, and it wasn't until I heard the thud of her head hitting glass that I remembered we were in a car.

We were in a car. Why were we in a car?

I turned my attention to the driver's seat and my ears picked up a quiet bass sound thumping from the radio. Two bodies sluggishly moved along to the beat, the one driving considerable slower and more sporadic. Looking past them, I watched the empty, scarily blackened roadway fly past us. We were moving fast- I could almost feel the speed course through my body- but this seemed to not be affecting the driver, since he stayed perfectly between the lines.

Who was driving?

Shouldn't I have been able to answer these questions myself?

"H-hellow?" The word slurred from my mouth and it startled me. Why was I slurring?

"Heyyy. Hey, Brycie," Matt or Mike murmured from the front of the car.

And that was enough for the entire situation to click in my head.

"Oh my god."

No matter how drunk I had been a few hours ago, a sober feeling instantly ran through me I sat up straighter in my seat, grinding my teeth as explosions of pain ruptured inside my skull. I felt terrible. Tiredness threatened to pull me back into unconsciousness and my entire body ached like I'd been kicked around like a punching bag.

_I'm drunk_. _This is what it's like to feel drunk_. If this was how it was, then I didn't understand why anyone would want to drink, _ever._

I tried to remember what had happened. I had gone to a club to see a band with Lynetta and the Baker twins. Matt or Mike had gotten into a fight so we left. I'd taken shots. I was almost positive everyone in this car had some amount of alcohol in their systems, including the one driving.

If that wasn't bad enough, I had no clue where we were. I vaguely recalled the highway and the little side street we'd taken to get to the club, and the road we were on now, even in the darkness, looked nothing like those roads. No streetlights lit our path; no cars past us coming the opposite way. We could have been in a black hole for all I knew.

I didn't know if I should start panicking or go back to sleep and hope we'd find our way home. The latter was quickly sounding better in my tired, raging head, until the car suddenly jerked underneath me.

Crashing into the window, the car continued to swerve, going from the gravel lining the side of the road to the other lane all together. I clutched onto my seat as the car took another sudden dive. Matt or Mike was yelling. The twin in shotgun grabbed the steering wheel, sending us flying the other direction. My body slammed hard into Lynetta, startling her awake.

"What the-"

Again, the car swerved another way. Lynetta grabbed onto me and her voice was loud and surprisingly sober in my ear as she screamed, "Watch where you're going! Stop! Stop!"

But the car kept swerving, twisting and turning like a roller coaster. I was feeling sick. The alcohol was threatening to spill all over the seat. We were going to crash! Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply and all too unexpectedly the car realigned itself onto the road.

"What was that?! You're going to kill us!" Lynetta shouted. And by shouted I mean verbally murdered Matt and Mike. I had never heard her sound so angry and that was coming from her own brother.

"Bryce!" She shoved her hand into my chest, hard. My eyes shot open. Even after noticing I was looking at her, Lynetta continually punched my shoulder. "Bryce, did you drink? Are you drunk? Oh my god, Mom and Dad are going to be pissed! We're screwed!" She stopped hitting me, crumbing back into her seat. She had gone from outraged to distressed within seconds. "Oh my god," she wailed, "oh my god, Bryce!"

Man, this whole situation was getting weird. I had never seen Lynetta so upset, but I was beginning to think it was because she wasn't in the right state of mind. Although her words were clear, her body swayed back and forth with the movements of the car. Her shoulders were slumped forward and her face was in her hands, surely hiding her tears. She had been drinking too. But right now, she was the only one who seemed to have a grip with what was going on.

I mustered up the best loving brother voice I could.

"Lynetta," I said softly, touching her forearm. "Lynetta, are you okay?"

Lynetta let out a weak moan. Her body was shaking under my hand, not in a way it should have been. Something was wrong.

I tried again. "Lynetta. Lynetta? What's-"

Then I heard her retch. I turned away as Lynetta threw up all over the floor.

"It's-it's in my hair!" she cried weakly. "I have- I have _puke in my hair_."

Somehow the Baker twins managed to leave their state of intense concentration on absolutely nothing to hear this.

"Youuu throew u-upp in ma car?!" Matt or Mike stammered loudly, but it wasn't the volume of his voice that made Lynetta and I jump. Anger surged in his tone, powerful, impenetrable anger. Anger I had never known the Baker twins to possess and it scared me.

"I-I didn't mean to," Lynetta blubbered innocently. Making her out in the darkness, I saw she was holding portions of hair away from her clothes and she was wiggling the strands, almost like the puke would magically disappear. Dark stains trailed down her face, probably makeup smears.

If the Bakers knew Lynetta at all, this was enough of an apology. Tears, stammering voice, puke. I mean, you couldn't get any more sorry than that. Of course it didn't work out that way.

"N-n-no!" Matt or Mike shouted and the car gave a small jerk. He twisted around to look at her, the car turning with him, and the other twin tried to grab the wheel again, which sent the driver into a fit of outrage.

With a snarl, he pushed his twin away with both hands. The sheering wheel remained straight for a moment before drifting to the left, moving the car dangerously close to the ditch. On instinct, I plunged forward to grab it. My fingers only grazed the leather wheel before the driver grabbed a hold of my arm.

"NO!" He screamed. I let out a small yelp as he twisted my arm. His fingers dug into my skin. He wouldn't let go.

"Let go!" I cried out as the pain hit me.

With my last remaining strength I pulled my arm away, surprised and relieved when it freed from the driver's grasp. Then I noticed that he had only averted his attention to his twin, who was once again trying to direct the car back onto the road.

They were shouting at each other and the car was jerking left and right and left and right each time one of them grabbed for the steering wheel. I was starting to feel sick and I was sure Lynetta was too. I was expecting her to start yelling at them to stop, but she only continued to wiggle her hair and whimper.

Common sense screamed at me to do something, anything. But what was I going to do? I didn't know how to drive, much less find a way to get two angry twins out of the front seats. I started to panic, realizing I had no idea what to do, when I saw the lights coming towards us.

At first I didn't think anything of it. Actually, I was happy. If a car was coming, this meant we weren't entirely out of civilization. Maybe we could stop and ask for directions. Maybe we could get help.

I was about to tell Lynetta this when the car jerked underneath me and all my hopes came crashing down. The lights ahead were getting brighter, bigger. How long did we have before the car reached us? Half a minute? Ten seconds? If the twins kept swerving the car around, we were going to crash. We were going to crash!

"Stop!" I yelled, throwing myself towards the twins, pulling them with my hands. They fought against me viciously, not understanding what was wrong, not seeing the car only five, four, three seconds away.

"No!" The driver bellowed. "Shhee puked in ma-"

If there was an impact, I didn't feel it. It was as if all time and space and feeling had left me, and I was only left to watch, numbly, as the two cars collided into each other. For an instance, the car filled with dead silence. It felt like I was floating. No, dreaming. Maybe this wasn't actually happening. Yeah, I was in my room, dreaming.

Lynetta's crying broke the silence and suddenly all my senses came back in one quick flash. Once again, I opened my eyes to darkness, but this time I knew what was going on.

And it was bad.


End file.
